Somnus
by Irene Claire
Summary: Somnus is Latin for 'sleep'. Danny and Steve are abducted by mercenaries who will do nearly anything to get what they want. Top of their list is sleep deprivation. Fairly plotless whumpfest focusing strictly on angsty bromance.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

_**Notes**_: this is a whumpfest/angsty/bromance plain and simple. You can expect little plot, glossing over medical (though what's here could be vaguely on the mark). The muse got frustrated about the lack thereof (bromance/angst) of late on the show and literally purged this. It's not properly beta'd nor is there much of a solid timeline and many liberties have been taken. My goal was to let the muse run amok and have a grand time doing it! Any errors are my own - if you see something (spelling or missing word) I'd appreciate a heads up to correct it.

**Chapter One**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* **

"It's okay," Steve murmured incessantly, both arms wrapped strongly around the miserably trembling body. "It's okay. I've got you ... it's over ... it's over and you can rest soon."

They had taken each of them separately with a fine-tuned precision and they had allowed them to see each other just twice in that four day period of time. But that second time had been wholly for Steve's sake to boost that one final terrible push over an inescapable edge. While Steve had been forced to manage the much too anticipated and almost typical abusive standards doled out, their punishment for Danny had been different.

In their four days of captivity, he hadn't been allowed to sleep; he hadn't been permitted a single minute of true rest. Generally, Danny hadn't been physically touched and yet ... he had.

_"Mi''zn't?"_ There were no more words coming out of Danny's mouth. Just weird, inarticulate questioning sounds which tore at Steve every step from where he'd finally managed to thwart their captors. The three men were deader than dead solely at Steve's hands for they had made one mistake; and one was all he'd required.

"S'okay, Danno. Promise," Steve whispered, pausing in the dark under a tree to shift his partner up higher in his arms. He'd found Danny trussed up against a concrete wall in the bunker. Arms tied over his head, he'd been forced to stand for hours in either pitch blackness or alternately, under overly bright lights but always to an insanity-driven level of sound. Booming _sound_ echoing to an astronomical level so loud, if it had been music, it had rendered into only nonsensical traumatic noise.

After the anticipated pummeling, it hadn't taken Steve long to realize what they were doing and he'd tried everything in his power to draw the attention back to himself. Bleeding, bruised and tormented by the three men, his brain had kicked in to understand the sheer depths of their evil.

So he'd lied, toyed with the truth and then lied again. Hours elapsed and Steve nearly lost his mind over what was being done to Danny. He fought back, argued, demeaned them in kind, and even lapsed into a belligerent silence, but the thick resonation of sound continued to reach him so many rooms away. As shock turned to anger and that became fear for his friend, Steve had seemed to finally break as they'd laughed or taunted him more.

Physically ... then mentally, to land on his worst possible emotional setting.

However, that turned out to be their very worst mistake. Using Danny was a distinct error in judgement because he wasn't Steve's weakness ... _using_ Danny ... _hurting_ Danny ... that act only provided the reason for Steve to finally break in a way their captors never guessed possible. And because of their mistake, now all were quite dead at the hands of a well-trained, highly skilled SEAL.

"Off." Danny stiffened as he uttered the first word Steve recognized. "Off ... off." His fingers clenched weakly around Steve's arm when his head came up, eyes blinking wildly where they had once been firmly closed against the world. He froze briefly, staring at something not quite there in the darkness as another hallucination gripped his exhausted brain.

"M'not ... off," Danny moaned fearfully, any semblance of words slurred and barely discernible. His body spasmed, the back of his head almost hitting Steve in the side of the face when he lurched away. "Pl... _please_ ... Off."

"Shh, everything's going to be fine." Steve's whispers were low and meant to soothe, but he didn't even know if Danny heard or even sensed his presence. Sleep deprived, Danny was past caring and mostly limp as a rag except for the severe muscular tremors wracking him from head to toe. Low moans thrummed through Steve's arm vibrating from his chest. He groaned, gagging and then straining in what seemed a real physical pain as his body rebelled in its desire to simply _sleep_.

"No, Danny, take it easy ... it's just me. It's Steve." Real tears were pricking painfully at Steve's eyes when Danny clumsily fought him, fingers ice cold and fumbling. The mewls increased for a time along with the uncoordinated, weak attempts before a brief moment of silence where Steve could only hear Danny's harsh uneven breaths and now feel an uneven heartbeat under his arm.

"Hang on, buddy. Just ... hang on for me." Steve didn't know where they were and the pitch of night within the jungle only worsened his inability to determine a general location so he simply picked a direction which was away from their bunker-like prison. The best he could do was select a downwards transverse angle hoping that he'd hit a beach where he might better understand their position and develop a better plan.

"Up you go," he whispered, ignoring the crippling pains in his own abdomen, his right shoulder and along the left side of his ribcage to heft Danny's arm over his neck because he literally needed to carry the near comatose man by that point. Exhausted himself, Steve stumbled as best as possible towards what he thought might be the safest place away from where they'd escaped.

His breath whistled in his own ears as he lumbered along at an excruciatingly slow pace. Driven by adrenalin and the need to gain ground for Danny's sake, he remained alert and steadfast in his sole goal. But he'd soon have to stop to rest; he'd need to stop to attempt a form of triage for his friend despite non-existent medical gear or the right kind of help.

After what seemed like an eternity, Steve found that refuge within feet of the beach he also craved. "Thank god," Steve mumbled to himself, his eyes now long acclimated to the dark as he examined the moonlit expanse before turning back to face the dense underbrush which he planned to use as cover. But by that point, he was gasping for air himself and had stopped to literally vomit from both exertion and his own deeply aching pain. Seeing no threat, he forced his body to behave, gently sitting Danny down before he cleared his find of rocks, dead wood and jungle's natural refuse.

He was heaving in the crisp night when he fell to his knees in front of his friend. Danny hadn't moved from his ragdoll-like seat. Head bowed and bobbing in time to each shallow breath, his body shook from cold and trauma. But though he didn't move, he was far from quiet. Faint incoherent mumbles were now a constant as his fingers scrabbled through the sand.

"Danny?" Steve felt his tears well again as he cradled his friend's face in both his hands, forcing it to tilt upwards so that Danny might look at him eye to eye. In the faint moonlight though, Steve could just make out the unfocused gaze and utter lack of recognition in the swollen, bloodshot eyes. The vibrant blue was gone. Now dark and muddy, Danny's pupils were widely blown and shifting nervously to first look through him and then beyond, possibly towards the ocean. His brow furrowed and he jolted in Steve's hands, shivering and trying to shake his head free.

"Danny? Can you hear me ... do you know who I am?" Steve tried and failed completely. At a moment of loss, he rocked his forehead to Danny's to close his eyes and just settle. People could die from sleep deprivation and he'd seen it first hand. The tactic was a mean and damaging method of abuse and torture. It was something which Steve had experience in, yet something which Danny certainly wouldn't have ever borne witness to. Forehead to forehead, Steve fought to control his breathing, as well as his emotional rage. His over-heated skin still couldn't warm Danny's clammy coolness, brought on by shock and a much too low blood-pressure.

"Okay, buddy," Steve bit back the emotional surge of hoarseness in his voice as he forced himself to rest back on his heels. "Ready? We're going to hide here where it's safe until morning. You can sleep ... sleep as long as you want."

In front of him, Danny wobbled in place but didn't exactly respond in any way to his words. The lack of response left Steve wanting more and he found himself anxiously rubbing Danny's arms as if he might be able to warm him up.

"Just a few more steps and then you can sleep. You can sleep all night; as long as you want." He demanded that he manage his mission until the very end as he rocked to his feet to snag Danny under his arms. He once again ignored the pain which ricocheted through his ribs to lift upwards so that he could coax Danny under the heaviest limbs to lay him flat on his back.

The thick copse of trees and low-lying scrub would screen them perfectly, and yet allow Steve the safe view of the moonlit sands and tide. After this though, he had no plan. He had nothing.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

_**Notes**_: wheeeee! thanks for encouraging the muse! Chapters are of varying lengths - it's the way it all came out. I have surrendered control to the muse who can be tons smarter than me. Again, please advise of any accidental errors in wording.

**Chapter Two**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* **

The ongoing moans were only punctuated by a weird humming, much louder than it should have ever been for their dire situation. Nonetheless, there was literally nothing Steve could do about it. In the darkness and barely protected by scrub brush in some unknown place with nothing other than his hands to protect himself and his damaged partner, he was severely limited in every way imaginable.

"It's alright, Danno," Steve whispered, feelings duly injured when Danny flinched away and slammed his hands over his ears. Everything was too much, yet not enough. "They're dead ... god, they're dead for what they did to you. But it's not enough and it might never be enough."

Steve gently but very firmly held his partner in his arms under the copse of brush and tree limbs. Their act of hiding was just that - an abysmal act. Danny moaned, twitched and hummed almost incessantly to setup such a racket, there was no realistic way that they were truly safely hidden. Steve rested his chin on top of Danny's head and closed his eyes, distressed but determined to help him ride out the traumatic abuse of having been denied a real REM sleep for what translated into days.

"You can do this. You can," Steve whispered so very softly. "It'll pass and you''ll be okay. I'll be there every step ... every single step of the way, Danny." In the back of his mind though, Steve had doubts because it had been so many hours.

The murmur Danny thought he sensed was oddly muffled as if he were under water and he didn't even try to hear if real words were involved. He was also blind and completely deaf; Danny knew those things and yet at the same time, he _could_ see and hear. It was an illogical juxtaposition that was much too hard to figure out because what he saw and heard were senseless, frightening phantoms. After hours of overwhelming noise and brutal methods specifically designed to keep him awake, he was desperate for quiet and peace. But he was unable to accept either when offered to him and so he resorted to making his own noise to fill in the endless black chasm of silence. The ongoing murmur was far too distant to mean anything and so he turned away. He hid and sporadically hummed to himself while covering his ears from the sounds of leaves in the wind and the roar of the waves that still made it though the tightness of his cupped fingers.

_"Mmm, fff,"_ Danny whimpered through his hum. He flinched when iron-hard bands tightened around his chest in reaction. Unknown _things_ were on or touching him and he couldn't get away. Shapeless, colorless streaks of light and dark shadows, which lurked large as they bided their time to smother him from existence.

In response, Danny shivered, his teeth clacking and he bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He was cold. So very cold and tense that his body was tightly strung as if he might fracture into minuscule bits never to be repaired again. The room was gone or the rooms. Danny had been moved so many times though the bunker system, he simply didn't know anymore where he was or why. Being moved was a method to keep him awake. Denied any form of rest, he'd been physically yanked to his feet and forced to walk to some other torturous room that might be too bright or too dark. But _never_ silent.

On some level now though, he did understand the rooms were gone. It might have been the salt water smell or the fresher air circulating around his face. Or, it might have been the iron-like bands which embraced him wholly around his upper body. Those bands were different too since they weren't around his wrists and his arms were not flung painfully over his head. The pain, the terrible pressure inflicted on his shoulders, was also gone, leaving him with a bone deep ache.

Things had changed. However, he was still trapped.

He still couldn't move, and Danny didn't know if where he was, was truly for the better or not. Incoherent and desperate for something he couldn't articulate, he hummed, rocked and jerked in place. Every so often, a low bass sound rumbled into his back and he couldn't hide his reactive flinch or the discordant arrhythmic thud of his heart.

"_Ple_ ... _please_. Fffff ... _off_," Danny jerked and murmured, craving quiet and fearing it at the same time. He clenched his fingers into his hair, just where he could cup his ears and pulled hard enough to scratch his scalp. A watery moan increased in volume when his head was pushed into something warm and yet as unyielding as a brick wall. Pressure covered his right hand as it tore higher into his hair and he grunted loudly in response as the persistent weight forced his fingers to cease their tearing motion.

"Mmm ... _offff_ ... _off_," he rasped repeatedly, never aware that Steve had firmly tucked his head into his chest or found a way to wend his own fingers between Danny's and the tufts of hair he so insistently pulled at. He never knew that Steve's eyes were still tightly closed against an onslaught of emotion as he doggedly hung on to him while his brain spun through a multitude of weak options.

Unfavorable choices that would require Danny be left alone.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **ok, Phoebe asked nicely so here is a second posting for today. I am not _promising_ to post tomorrow though! *breathe in - breathe out* Serious thanks for ALL the happy encouragement.

**Chapter Three**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

"Sedate him," Steve whispered to the stunned cadre of men standing above them, his voice barely audible as Danny strained hard against him. Help had finally arrived after a desperate race against time, but now he found himself almost begging with them. "Please. It's the only way."

Hours earlier, Steve had dredged up the volume of courage needed in order to leave his partner alone for the long period necessary to revisit the bunker system. Limping, sore and weak, he'd forced himself to go back on a half-stumbling jog to pilfer what he knew had to exist: weapons, water, and of critical importance - a satellite radio.

He hadn't needed to worry about a trap because the blaring music had still been booming through the hodgepodge of narrow tunnels. He hadn't bothered to locate the source the first time, and he hadn't bothered on that return trip, feeling that the ongoing din could provide him with a suitable alarm in the future.

Once inside, Steve hadn't stopped at all to consider the bodies, nor the sour smell of death already emanating from the dank rooms. His objective had been clear and he'd simply channeled his waning energy reserves to satisfy the task at hand.

The only excess baggage he did pause for was Danny's discarded wallet. Tossed aside in the same room from which he'd freed his partner, it had landed billfold opened wide and upside down in a puddle of dank water. Steve had stopped then in surprise, painfully dropping to his knees to retrieve the personal item, his own ears beginning to ache from the loud noise.

Under the worn leather and utterly ruined by water damage, had been two older photos of Grace. The precious find was additionally distressing and Steve had taken a moment to dry the photos as best as he could in the dirty hem of his shirt. With a worried, pensive grimace, he'd then tucked them safely back into one side of the wallet regardless of their condition.

He'd managed the urgent distress call on the return leg of his hectic journey. Barely on his feet and badly winded, but with a sharp clarity, he'd contacted both Chin and the Coast Guard spouting demands and strident orders. To save the battery, he'd then thumbed the sat phone off before collapsing in a heap by Danny's side.

Gasping for air and nearly faint from exhaustion, Steve hadn't known precisely how long he'd been gone. It could have been forty or closer to even sixty long terrible minutes. In that window of time though, Danny had curled tightly into a miserable uncomprehending ball of ceaseless discordant sound. Tucked onto his left side in a fetal position and wedged under the bows of the heaviest part of the thicket, his bare heels had dug deep furrows in the sand where he'd tunneled himself deeper into their hiding place. Even in the dim light of dawn, Steve could easily see that his arms were scratched and gouged by branches, twigs and even his own fingernails.

"_I'm sorry I took so long. But I'm back; I'm here, Danny,"_ Steve had whispered urgently as he ignored his own woes to painfully extract his partner so that he could heave him back into his arms. "_Easy, help's on the way."_

He had pillowed Danny against his chest despite his own injuries to get to work on once more disentangling spasming fingers from sweat soaked tendrils of blonde hair. After succeeding, Steve had tried to coax water down Danny's throat with a Herculean effort battling arms, elbows and a twisting body of frenzied activity that had only resulted with Steve getting battered across his already sensitive ribcage.

He'd given up then, only able to cope with cradling Danny through cold tremors and ever-weakening attempts to break free. But in all, Steve had been simply relieved to find a way to anchor his body around his partner, cocooning him tightly as he moaned and shuddered in confusion. With his own eyes wearily closed again, Steve had resumed his original position of guardian as he simultaneously focused on his ailing partner and tried to rest.

He had prayed for it all to stop. However when everything simply ceased as if a master switch had been flipped, Steve had fallen into a frenzy of his own. The terrifying episode where Steve frantically checked and rechecked Danny's erratic vitals lasted less than sixty seconds. Then, at the very cusp of Steve's panic where his partner lay nearly lifeless in his grasp, the jarring sounds had resumed with a startling spasm of movement.

"You need to sedate him," Steve now repeated to the help which had arrived nearly three hours after his urgent distress call. At first relieved beyond words at the distant sound of the helicopter, the crescendo of its arrival had dashed his hopes by sending Danny even further into a renewed bout of moans and inane unintelligible hummed murmurings.

By now, Steve's eyes were as red-rimmed as Danny's from an exhaustive ongoing stress as he vainly tried to tuck his friend's head back into the relative safety of his shoulder. His hand was rocked sturdily between Danny's searching fingers and the sweat-soaked side of the abused blonde head where strands of hair had already been torn loose. Afraid to move an inch, Steve glared up into the eyes of their rescuers demanding that Danny be sedated before he be touched for the pending traumatic move. "Put him out ... you have to put him out because he won't be able to take it. He doesn't understand and he just can't do it."

Chin was there, standing directly next to the two Coast Guardsmen. His worried gaze flickered from Steve to Danny, and then back again. "What did they do, Steve? What the hell happened?" He breathed out, slowly squatting down for a better look at the injured men. "What's wrong with him? Drugs?"

"He hasn't slept in days. They kept him up ... using any means they could ... they forced him to walk and bombarded him with noise. He's been subjected to bright light or pitch darkness - but always incessant noise. They wouldn't let him sleep. Not even for two minutes. Chin, he's severely sleep deprived and not coping," Steve replied, clearly verbalizing his desperation.

He was genuinely afraid as he answered Chin, but his eyes rested fully on the two Coast Guardsmen, knowing they'd understand his plea. "You can't touch him or move him like this; he needs to be sedated or he'll never make it back home."

"Yes, sir," the elder uniformed man, a medical officer named Hammond, nodded in agreement as he grasped the full extent of Steve's information and bore witness to the evidence directly in front of him. Sleep deprivation was severe and threw the human body into a physiological stew. Mere sedation could and would kill if administered improperly. The balancing act would therefore be critical to maintain until they got both of their patients to better care.

"Hold him for me and I'll do just that. We'll work together, sir, and get it done," Hammond said. He opened his kit to begin his triage, his mind methodically working through his best medical options with the least amount of risk. "I need a handle on his vital signs. Then, a little bit of a mild sedation can be administered to take the edge off so he can be moved. This is tough, so I'll need to focus solely on him for the entire trip back."

He was already hunkered down next to Steve and attempting to disengage one of Danny's arms when he better saw the Five-0 Commander's own disheveled physical state. Hammond gently thumbed Steve's right arm below a wide reddened gash. He instantly didn't approve of the bloody stain, nor what seemed to be pitted, abraded skin likely from powder burns.

"You've been shot at close range?" With a quiet pensive hiss of sound, Hammond shook his head in dismay and gestured meaningfully to his counterpart for assistance. "What are your other injuries, sir? We definitely need to take a look at you, too."

"Don't care about me," Steve murmured, a darkness had settled firmly around his eyes as he helped Hammond hold Danny's arm relatively still for a blood pressure cuff. He shook his head in anger as Hammond's partner tried to assess his wounded shoulder. He knew the deep crease in the fleshy part of his upper arm was technically minor, however with not even the tools for a basic triage, it was already infected. The three men stared at each other defiantly for a long moment until Danny's ongoing distress broke the tableau.

"I don't ... I'll be fine. Just help Danny; sedate him. Please." Steve's voice literally cracked before it faded on a final exhale because he simply lacked the wherewithal to sustain an argument. "Just ... do it."

Exhausted and utterly spent, Steve wearily closed his eyes as Danny shuddered against him only to have them spring open in alarm when his friend's abused body stiffened before falling limp and utterly silent.

"God _dammit_, Danny!" Steve juddered too, gasping at the abrupt difference when the small copse was plunged into relative silence. He looked immediately up towards Hammond for help.

"Shit! What ...? Steve?" Chin stammered in shock. He was forced to give way as Hammond fell to his knees with a stunned oath of alarm to palm Danny's neck while his own Coastie partner hastily fastened an oxygen mask to the slack face. "What just happened?"

"This happened before," Steve rasped out unsteadily. "Not sure ... he was out for a minute or so ... woke up .. sort of, anyway. It's almost like a blackout and he comes back just as agitated. Just as lost."

"Microsleep episode," Hammond murmured, his face a mask of seriousness as he listened to Danny's heart and lungs. "His body, as well as his brain, are trying to deal with the stress."

With one hand on the stem to the stethoscope, Hammond's eyes were barely opened as he concentrated on a multitude of separate tasks and recited reasons behind Danny's sudden cessation of movement. "Happens as a result of sleep deprivation; the docs will put him on an EEG when we get him home. His body is craving rest and I guess you could argue that it's a type of sleep. In reality though, he's lost his ability to truly fall asleep."

"It's good then? If it's a type of sleep?" Chin asked, immediately distressed when Hammond shook his head to the contrary. As if to prove the medic's yet unspoken clarification and Steve's worried description, the discordant moaning and uncoordinated movements resumed scarcely a few seconds later. Steve winced as his bruised ribs took the brunt of Danny's sudden resurgence of activity.

"Hell, no. This isn't good. Not by a long shot. His body doesn't know how to cope," Hammond exclaimed as he tried to help Steve control his distressed partner. His medical concerns now easily came to the fore as Danny shuddered and moaned incoherently in Steve's arms. "He needs proper medical attention, in the right setting. That ... and a great deal of support."

**_~ to be continued ~_**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

_**Notes**_: busy day - so yes, the muse cooperated early. Enjoy!

**Chapter Four**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* **

Incapable of rational thought, Danny would rouse after mere seconds or just a few short minutes of closing his eyes. Twitching, moving constantly and vocalizing an incessant humming thrum, many hours later, he still could never truly achieve a healing REM sleep. His condition remained serious as the doctors carefully manipulated and managed his treatment with kid gloves. Their second patient though was causing them nearly an equal amount of trouble. With his own injuries now being tended to, Steve bivouacked in Danny's hospital room; something which the doctors disapproved for his own health even though the room was designed for two.

"You're going to get run down," Chin whispered, his voice barely heard for the ongoing hoarse sounding rumbling hum emanating up from the bed which separated them. He knew that Steve wouldn't listen to him as much as he had to his own doctors. The only time he had truly rested was on the chopper and then through the period of time of his own treatment. For that, Steve had truly gotten a due period of rest as his own body's needs kicked in with a vengeance. Within the last few hours though, he'd resumed his stalwart stance over Danny. Still, Chin tried to encourage Steve to heed doctor's orders because his friend was feverish and yet, continuing to push too hard.

"I'm not," Steve murmured defensively, his eyes never leaving the many monitors which kept a disappointing truth about his best friend's weakened state. "Not even close, Chin."

"Aren't you supposed to be hooked up to that thing?" Chin sighed as he lost the battle which never even got past that of a short courteous exchange of words. He glowered at Steve before gesturing to the bag of intravenous antibiotics hanging next to the second hospital bed. "You took the IV out again; you can't keep doing that or you're going to prove the doctors' right."

Clothed in a hospital gown and over-sized plain white bathrobe, Steve's right arm was in a sling and he stood slightly hunched for the damage done to his ribs. A multitude of parti-colored bruises would heal with time and all of that was simply good enough to keep him on his feet and by Danny's side. And much to Chin's chagrin, he ignored the mention of the IV with a patented stoicism.

"How's our package? Any word from Kono?" For a brief second, Steve glanced up. His question related to the reason for their abduction and he nodded in approval at Chin's confirming change of expression.

"Secure and ready to be moved to the venue," Chin verbalized, an unconscious wince altering his eyes to those that expressed a deep concern as Danny moaned more loudly. Then, his lips adopted a thin white line of disapproval when his eyes fell on the intravenous line which Steve had seen fit to disengage so he could vacate his own hospital bed. The situation was beyond frustrating as one unconscious friend was subjected to medical care and another resented and tried to avoid the very same. His second sigh was loudly aggrieved for Steve's voluntary transgression, yet it still yielded no response and he was forced to stay on the topic the man had chosen. "Kono agreed to stay on point with the FBI. She's worried that there'll be another attempt en route."

"She's right, so triple the detail," Steve muttered. At first distracted by Danny, his brain did now pause to focus on the next steps related to their mission and he realized something of importance. He and Danny would no longer be considered the keys to preventing the witness from testifying and Kono was on the right track. If something happened it would indeed be at the trial venue and that fact placed this secondary team in prime danger. "We're fine here and no longer targets, so I want you with Kono right now and for the duration of the mission. Watch your backs and stay alert."

"Consider it done. I'll leave and rendezvous with her this afternoon," Chin readily agreed. His face was pensive though and his parting words were stressed with an earnest concern. "Steve, get some rest. Please listen to the doctors."

"Stop. Danny, no," Steve warned softly as his full attention swung back to his bedridden friend, intercepting Danny's trembling fingers as they tore into the hair by his left ear. His own bed was indeed right behind him, however he had other concerns. So while he had certainly heard Chin and understood the genuine goodwill behind the plea, he had no time to rest; not yet. Not with his best friend in such a high level of distress.

"Danny, you're okay. Let it go," he whispered softly. With a quick look to Chin, Steve dismally shook his head as a signal to indicate what he needed to; where he needed to be. He would do what he had to as he continued to hold Danny's hand tightly, whispering an inane jumble of nonsense until some of the frenetic activity ceased and the moans turned back into an ongoing hummed vibration. Momentarily unwilling to move from their side, Chin rubbed his eyes with both hands, dragging them down this cheeks in frustration for what was going on under his nose.

"This is ... just ... I don't know," Chin quietly ground out. He felt useless and like excess baggage as doctors and nurses puttered busily around Steve attempting to keep their traumatized detective comfortable and his vital signs as balanced as possible. It was a terrible struggle though as Danny's heart rate pounded and his blood pressure stayed unhealthily low. While Steve had admitted to bearing witness to situations similar to Danny's current suffering state, Chin was utterly baffled by what he was seeing.

"Steve," Chin asked. He was appalled by the grayish pallor to Danny's face and the dark purplish circles smudging the area below his eyes. In short, Danny looked deathly ill and completely unlike his usual energetic self. "What can I do? There must be something?"

"I didn't talk," Steve ground out. "And I know that Danny wouldn't have either. He wouldn't have said a word about the safe house despite what they did to him. So, don't allow this to be for nothing."

Chin nodded silently in reply. When it came to Chin's real question about Danny and being able to do anything more though, Steve was already shaking his head to the negative. His eyes met Chin's to communicate his own depths of concern and inability to really be of value. "We have to wait," Steve finally offered. "Wait and have faith that these doctors know what they're doing. The rest is up to Danny."

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Danny opened his eyes without knowing he would. One moment there was nothing and then the next, he simply opened his eyes without fanfare. The whitish blur of too many disorienting shapes filled his field of vision and he stared at them without comprehension. He was lying on his left side and in a hospital bed with blankets tucked high over his shoulder; something else he wouldn't yet be able to fully understand in his current state.

He hummed softly out of habit, the fingers on his right hand flexing almost painfully in response. He eventually stopped though out of a true weariness or even a possible lack of needing to make noise to offset a stifling silence because there was a new sound. A simple melodic harmony that he finally heard. It was almost pleasant and he stilled as if listening, a shallow shudder rolling through him at a newly brief _sound_ of a deeper thrum which was almost out of place ... and yet, not.

"He hears it," Steve whispered barely above that of soft breeze as Danny's disturbing tuneless hum faded and his brow creased in the first sign of real awareness in what seemed like days. The doctors in the hospital had introduced a low undertone of classical music within Danny's private room to offset their patient's discordant noises. It had taken time and a studious particular use of occasional sedation as his vitals were carefully monitored, but now it did seem that Danny was finally recognizing another difference in his vicinity.

"Dammit," Steve cursed softly, worried when he saw the ripple of shock run through Danny's body at the sound of his voice. He hadn't been loud and yet his partner had reacted. He glanced up to the doctor's face, worried and then reassured when the man only nodded to continue. Ever so hesitantly Steve shifted his position from where he sat on the edge of a chair not even a foot away from the bed and eye to eye should Danny ever decide to actually focus his lifeless gaze.

"Try," the doctor said, pointing to Danny's partially opened but still dazed looking expression. Steve nodded wordlessly, instantly nervous because they had tried before ... _he_ had tried before, but to no avail.

"Danno, can you hear me?" Steve kept his voice modulated low and steady. "It's okay; you're okay here." He intentionally shifted again in an attempt to pull Danny's gaze into a tighter realm, a hand daring to still the nervously twitching fingers before they could become buried in the bedding. There was a startled puff of air at the touch and Steve froze in kind; the smallest of confused exhales as his hand covered Danny's which still didn't seem quite warm enough. The frown deepened as well, another sign that just maybe things might begin to turn a more healthy corner. With a surge of hope, Steve looked to the doctor, daring to smile as the man approved the more natural response; slim as it might be.

Danny unconsciously pursed his lips as the grayish-white blur moved unexpectedly. He blinked in a rapid succession and he startled again as something warm and strong eked into his circle of awareness through the fingers on his right hand. It was too soon for him to think though, at least not in detail as he blinked again and settled his eyes on ... a _face_.

He stared hard not actually trying to understand and yet, knowing somewhere in his still beleaguered mind, that he needed to. Blandly watching the face shift and change, Danny blinked again. Once and then twice, before his eyes dropped to his hand where the warmth seemed to be emanating.

"Danno?" Almost too sluggishly, Danny moved his gaze back upwards to the blurred outline of dark hair and moving lips. Sound which had once made him flinch away finally seemed to make sense in its sonorous vibration. "Danny, do you know who I am?"

The question was faint. Far away and yet as luminous as a cloud where it shook something loose inside his chest. But instead of dwelling on what it might mean, Danny wearily closed his eyes. The warmth on this hand tightened and for the first time he returned the pressure, suddenly aware of a saddened, softly uttered moan of disappointment.

His eyes remained closed, but Danny felt the stunned trill communicated to him through his fingertips and he nearly sketched a timid smile. The reality of a true acknowledgement would have to wait though, too, because he was far from achieving that level of sanity. But he knew something then without needing to try too hard and he surprised himself at the realization.

He _understood_ the last scarcely uttered question as words clicked magically into place:_ 'Danny, do you know who I am?'_

_Yes_, he understood the question and inherently knew the answer. So before falling asleep, Danny managed one faintly pushed out word that brought his best friend to his feet with an incredulous gasp.

"Steve."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

_**Notes**_: some progress - but not without eventual setbacks in one way or another. My continued thanks for all the wonderful reviews and to the guests whom I can't directly reply to. Again, if anyone sees an accidental error, please send me a note so I can correct it.

**Chapter Five**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* **

Once Danny woke that last time, things slowly, but steadily, began to improve. Maybe it wasn't perfect or even wholly consistent, but certain things were definitely better. While blood samples continued to be taken for testing, and his vitals dutifully checked and rechecked, he was no longer tethered to any type of intravenous line or oxygen. Overall, the hectic pace of frenetic activity had begun to lessen slightly as each tiny hurdle in his care was achieved.

Danny's sleep recovery for the hours stolen from him, would still take days though. He suffered from continued bouts of microsleeps and a jittery shakiness as if his muscles simply weren't his to control. He walked only under the support of two nurse's aides, and as if in an utter confused daze, hardly able to manage the simplest of tasks.

Constantly worried, Steve watched now as Danny's fingers shook nonstop as he tried to wrap them around the edge of the bedsheets. Steve didn't like the convulsive half-conscious attempts, however he was more intent upon watching Danny's face. He measured the too pale complexion, remnants of bruises, and the dark circles which looked almost purple under his closed lashes. Behind his lids, his eyes would move almost wildly at times as if dreaming, yet Danny wasn't really resting or even dreaming.

Never quite actually _sleeping deeply enough_. Never fully at peace.

Nevertheless, and after his friend's tentative recognition, now of utmost importance to Steve was that those vivid hallucinations which tore at splintered memories of abuse were tapering off, along with some of Danny's sporadic need to vocalize or hum. Next to conquer would be the illogical paroxysms of anxiety which impacted Danny's breathing and ability to form rational words. Things were improving and Steve maintained faith that Danny would eventually sleep, yet for now, his partner remained apprehensive and completely unable to take care of himself with any volume of confidence.

"How're you feeling? You should eat something," Steve coaxed softly. He didn't expect an answer though he knew Danny had recently roused to another vague level of awareness. He didn't really expect much. Not really; not yet. But he tried as he always did because he simply needed to - and Danny certainly needed to eat.

"Danny, are you hungry?" Steve repeated.

Lying on his side in the hospital bed, Danny's eyes were closed and he was indeed listening. Soft music continued to play gently in the background and he appreciated its ongoing steady pulsation of soothing sound. Once he recognized it for what it was, he'd finally stopped most of his own breathy humming, content to just let the peaceful thrum of softly played classical guitars wash over him. But his hands were shaking as if from a palsy and he was far from wanting to eat. He was also unable to hold a complete thought in his head and things flittered in and out as if on a puff of air.

"Steve?" Seconds after Steve had asked his question and the concept of food skidded in, everything was gone and Danny had already forgotten. But Steve was one constant he could rely on. The one presence that made sense when everything else was too muddled. The only one who held the chance of pulling him back from the precipice when frequent night terrors attacked. Those much too vivid horrors consisting of faceless shape-shifters sucked him down into a pitch black chasm where nothing existed but a neverending amount of torment. There, he would be taunted in a claustrophobic nightmare of smothering heat, distressingly frigid cold, insurmountable pain and always ... _fear_.

He ached to sleep, yet couldn't get himself safely to that peaceful realm long enough so it mattered. It was as if his body had forgotten how to shut itself off to heal. Where his body fought to sleep, his brain kicked in relentlessly with other abnormal signals. To compromise, his physicians juggled an ever-changing regimen based on his blood chemistries. Alternating between light sedation, excruciatingly short walks, plus other medications to stabilize his vital signs, their goal was to reteach him how to sleep without throwing yet another bullet into his already damaged psyche.

"Yeah, I'm still here," Steve replied, hoping that if he took Danny's nervously twitching hand that it would help. "I'm not going anywhere, Danny."

Instead of helping this time, he tried not to frown or show any signs of dismay when Danny jerked away from his touch. "You need to eat something." He persisted on gaining ground, untangling the bedsheets from Danny's fingers which were still too cold and stiffened from a rigid tension, by wrapping them within his own. A thoughtful sigh found its way out of his chest when Danny changed course to literally hang onto his grasp.

"Danny, did you hear me?" Steve chose to push, his patience being stretched to its full limits when his friend didn't respond. There was a short silence as Danny stilled for a fraction of a second. His eyes remained tightly closed, leaving Steve only the ability to wait or gently prod to see if the questions might be under consideration. "I want you to try and eat something."

"Steve? What?" Danny breathed out a confused sound, daring to open his eyes despite the disconcerting way he could barely focus on the concerned face which rarely left his side. It was as if a grayish veil stood between himself and Steve to permanently disrupt and distort his vision. He was sometimes hooked up to heart monitors which trilled loudly at unfortunate moments when his heart would beat a much too-fast tempo based upon what he _thought_ he saw alone. And yet even if there had been a threat, he could barely get his limbs to move or his eyes to cooperate.

Other-times, one doctor or another would insist upon a new EEG to measure his brain activity. All of these tests remained a disturbing part of his odd routine which did little to quiet his agitated tendencies. On edge and full of restless urges to move, his body conversely felt as if it were stuck in a sickeningly deep quagmire. His muscles continued to tremble and he distinctly lacked a coordinated control, with fatigue and ache so severe that every part of his body was affected.

"What?" Danny murmured again as he blinked at Steve's face before his eyes slid shut of their own accord. He was awake, but not in control and he frowned because he knew that he was distinctly missing something. Only then did he vaguely smell what he thought could be soup. It was a new sensation to recall ... that sense of smell had been slow to return ... and Danny's stomach did an odd nauseating confused roil.

_Food_. He didn't want to eat, but he needed to eat. His doctors were adamant; and Steve was tenacious with this latest task. Danny's stomach lurched uncomfortably, feeling like an empty burning hole. He needed to eat but he couldn't get the words out; and then in a rush of emotion, he wondered if he cared enough to even try.

"Hold on," Steve muttered. Rather than rephrasing his question, Steve gently released Danny's grip so that he could pull the raised tray closer to the side of the bed. A simple dinner of soup and crackers, with a small pudding cup comprised the tools of his mission.

"Sit up," Steve said. He no longer waited for the courtesy of a reply as he made an executive decision. "It's time for you to eat something, Danno." When Danny didn't respond with more than what sounded like an almost agreeable murmur, Steve stood from his chair to raise the bed and guide his friend over to his back. Pillows were fixed and sheets untangled silently before the tray was pulled even closer.

Danny blinked rapidly as the tray swam muzzily into view. There were still no colors. Just odd visual disturbances which affected his depth perception and kept his head reeling. Something was wrong though, as hands, not his own - _for he could feel their ongoing tremble in his lap_ \- uncovered the plastic bowl of soup and then pulled a shiny silver tab off another small plastic tub.

"Not," Danny shook his head once when he dimly realized what was happening, his voice barely above that of a raspy murmur. "Don't ... me." He fumbled for the words, frustration turning into anger when he tried to push the tray away. What was wrong in his current place of existence was the concept of his best friend feeding him by hand as if he might truly be an invalid.

Steve got the poorly communicated point quickly and a smile hesitantly teased his lips, replacing a stoicism built as a wall to shield his emotions. Danny was coming back with a particular determination as he objected being spoon fed something arguably more snack than that of a simple meal. Though the blue sparkle had yet to return to Danny's eyes, he was trying his damnedest to glare up into Steve's face with such a rock-hard set to his jaw that Steve hadn't realized he'd even missed the obstinate expression.

"Give ... I'll do ... it," Danny finally whispered with such a glimmer of a grumpy tone, Steve did smile then. Through stammered words, the defiance was close enough to a rant and he grabbed the opportunity and mentally dug in to celebrate the latest success as relieved tears filled his eyes.

"Here, take this and give it a try," Steve said roughly as he punched the call button for a nurse because he knew Danny wouldn't be getting far. He cleared his throat against a sudden tightness offset by that same pleased smile. He didn't care who or how Danny got to eat, as long as it happened. The attempt at an increased level of communication coupled with a very familiar flare of temper were also more than welcome. "I'll get someone else to help if you can't manage."

Rather than argue, he then wrapped his friend's trembling fingers around a plastic spoon, choosing the chocolate pudding as the safest of the options. But Danny never actually found the small plastic cup even with the tiny bit of help Steve tried to provide. So Steve found himself glancing up, pleadingly asking the newly arriving nurse for help when Danny pulled away, almost folding in upon himself in frustration.

"I need to step out," Steve offered as an excuse and not knowing if what he was asking, was or was not quite her role. "Do you mind? Just for a few minutes?"

The nurse barely lifted an eyebrow as she read Danny's flustered attitude and the real significance of the look Steve gave her which went well beyond his actual words. However, her meaningful glance directly towards his empty bed clearly communicated one other pertinent message.

_Steve, too, was required to rest sooner rather than later._

Instead of verbally answering the reprimand and understanding their unspoken trade of sorts, Steve responded with a lame apologetic shrug which the woman reacted to with a nod towards the clock. Their own conversation about his care was merely going to be slightly delayed. "The cafeteria's open, Commander, take all the time you need. The fridge is stocked; take whatever you'd like to have. I'll be here waiting for you."

This second message was clearly driven home and Steve chuffed a bemused sound under his breath as he took a careful step away from the bed to gauge Danny's reaction to having this new help. He pulled the flimsy white belt around the material of his hospital-issued robe, catching the nurse's complete disapproval when she realized his sling was also AWOL from his body.

"I'll just take a few minutes," Steve wilted under her perturbed gaze. "I'll get a quick bite to eat in the cafeteria and come right back." The cafeteria was really the staff's break room to which Steve had graciously been granted limited access. Just two doors away though, she would know precisely where he was and for how long. Because she was obnoxiously diligent, she would undoubtedly check the contents of the refrigerator - or even the garbage pail or sink - to see if he had indeed eaten a snack.

"He'll be fine, Commander," the nurse pushed gently, softened by his reluctance to leave. "Take a break; go on. Have something to eat."

When nothing of note happened as the nurse took over where he'd been denied, Steve still lingered just briefly by the doorway to be sure. But his subtlety had worked and Danny was accepting of the change as a plain paper napkin was gently tucked under the front of his hospital gown.

"Steve?" His heart lurched unexpectedly when Danny clumsily stayed the nurse's hand from the raised spoon to search him out. Danny's movements were awkward and slow, but his stammered orders were clear and again Steve began to find a genuine smile.

"M'fine," Danny assured him, his voice breathy and strained as he forced the right words to leave his mouth. His red-rimmed eyes blinked and then narrowed in determination as he identified the hazy silhouette that was Steve standing just inside the room. He'd been listening to the conversation and approved. "Go. S'okay."

"Alright, Danno," Steve replied after a slight pause. Except for the heavy darkened smudges under his eyes, there was still no color to Danny's complexion. But in a way that didn't quite matter at that very moment as a silent form of thanks was relayed along with a glimmer of a very welcomed spirit. Steve's smile was now firmly engraved on his face, his own eyes brighter and shining under the fluorescent lights. "But I will be right back ... I'm not going far at all."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

_**Notes**_: a lull before a storm ... someone had mentioned a flashback. Yes, that's planned with tons more bromantic moments!

**Chapter Six**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* **

"If they weren't forcing him to walk or slapping him around, he was chained to a wall or laid flat out on the ground," Steve murmured to the doctor, worried now that Danny might waken if he spoke too loudly despite the physician's assurances to the contrary. The two men were discussing in more detail what Danny had been subjected to and Steve was crossing every 't' and dotting every 'i'. Except of course, when it came to the fate of the mercenaries responsible or any part of their ongoing case work.

Dusk was falling outside and a light round of sedation had been prescribed to compliment the timing of nightfall after the nurse had managed to get every particle of food on the tray into Danny's system. Despite the diligent care, sporadic muscular tremors still coursed through his body as Steve studied him. However as the doctor continually pointed out, Danny seemed mostly at ease and apparently asleep.

"We were in an old WW2 bunker system. It was musty, dank; the ground was hard, cold stone ... and the shackles were on him so tight," Steve paused in his recitation, drawing in a measured breath so that he could remain relatively calm. However, his eyes were telling an entirely different story as he described what he saw when he freed his partner, as well as what he cataloged during his final return trip for the satellite radio. What he'd witnessed had sickened him then, and describing it verbally in more detail now was nearly impossible.

"These ... _mercenaries_ ... they stretched his arms and legs to the limits. They took his clothes except for his pants; and he couldn't move unless they arranged him just so for hours on end. Then to top it off, there were buckets lined up in the room... he was doused with ice water repeatedly," Steve finished in a rush, only just succeeding in getting everything out of his mouth. Blinking rapidly to void the memory from his mind's eye, he glanced up to the doctor waiting for the man's reaction. The doctor had been more aware of the end result which had brought him his patient. He had lacked a great deal of the pertinent details, so Steve's words were being duly digested and ground through syllable by terrible syllable.

"Torture plain and simple; and, they employed a few stress positions," their doctor slowly confirmed, eliciting a dismal nod from Steve. "So who were these people? Ex-military?" He ran a hand across his face; pensive and highly concerned for the methods they'd employed on the detective under his care. But he knew that based on CIA and the occasional publicized Guantanamo Bay detention reports, certain prisoners were sometimes treated similarly with far worse outcomes such as amputation, permanent injury or even death. The doctor was well-read and very astute. Though he hadn't borne witness to such cases during his own career, he still easily knew that in many regards, his current patient could be deemed fairly lucky that a few lesser techniques were employed.

"Most likely," Steve agreed carefully. "Hired ex-military ... with zero conscience and too much time on their hands." He couldn't say more about what had happened or what his suspicions might be since their mission was still in play. Any further conversation on the subject was also a rather moot point since the small team of adversaries no longer walked the earth. Steve's only concern now was Danny and making sure he continued to receive the very best medical care. Therefore, his mention of particular details - painful as they may be to explain - was meant solely for that very purpose.

"And the music, which you know about already. They blasted all kinds of insanity into that dungeon of a room," he added regretfully. The bulk of Danny's sleep deprivation issues were compounded by the over-whelming volume of sound he'd been subjected to. "It was deafening and I could almost feel the pounding through the walls; and I was literally rooms away from him. I couldn't even tell you what that noise consisted of; only that it was enough to raise the dead."

"To get to you?" The doctor queried, for he was still overwhelmed by the use of such tactics. "They used him in order to get to you? For ... information?"

"Yeah. Information," Steve curtly replied. He answered the doctor with well-edited language unwilling to say just how much it had all worked, while staring at his friend the entire time. A hand remained stubbornly looped around Danny's lax fingers which retained an icy cold from a disturbingly low blood pressure. "We saw each other twice and he was almost okay the first time. On edge, nervous. He was more worried about me and I didn't realize what they were beginning to do to him. But by the time they let me see him the second time, Danny was done. He was rambling ... he made no sense ... I don't think he knew where he was or even who I was. They had to hold him up because he couldn't stand on his own."

Steve paused as he went back in time to the bunker and _saw_ Danny back there. Slick with sweat and shaking so badly that he couldn't stand, two of the men had to brace his partner between them as they laughed at his incomprehensible, drunken-like behavior caused entirely by sheer exhaustion. He _saw first-hand_ the results of their methods and remembered how that had provided only one more impetus to make him snap.

"It's over though," Steve muttered under his breath as he consciously tightened his hand on Danny's to reassure himself that he was truly there. When he had seen Danny that last time, he had already had more than enough of waiting for an opportunity to gain the upper-hand. Using Danny as an emotional bargaining chip had clearly been their first mistake in goading him even more; their second, had been their egotistical rise in confidence. At first, he'd reacted to their threats and continued taunts precisely as they'd anticipated by arguing and even acting as if he didn't care. He put on an impressive show, but he was watching and waiting. His own ploy had fed their boldness and he'd been on his toes just waiting for the briefest of chances. And when that chance had been given to him, he'd reacted with an astonishing swiftness.

Afterwards, there were moments which he didn't quite remember. For one, he'd been shot during the altercation, but hadn't even realized it until well after he'd gotten Danny away and headed towards the beach. Yet other things he could recall with a startling clarity. Such as the pleasing fracture of the gun-wielding man's arm and the accompanying scream of pain when he'd cracked the bone from wrist to elbow. That had occurred seconds before he'd deftly turned the gun towards the man's chest and dispensed one more bullet directly into his heart.

Once the proverbial dust had settled and the chaotic struggle had fallen to an eerie moment of calm, what he'd needed to do had been enough. Those mercenaries were dead and Danny was laying in front of him in a hospital bed. And because of those two very important facts, Steve was actually glad of what he'd done, especially after having found Danny's mangled wallet and the ruined photos of Grace. Besides torturous sleep deprivation, with that discovery in hand, it hadn't taken much effort to know what else his partner had been threatened with above and beyond anything to himself. Those threats would have seemed insurmountable in his highly distressed, confused state of mind.

"Commander, I want you off your feet now," the doctor demanded as their private conversation came to a natural end. "Your temperature is still elevated and despite what you say, you _are_ going to cause yourself some serious problems." His arrival on rounds had actually preempted his nurse's good care, used as an excuse by his second patient to remain precisely where'd he'd been before. He knew exactly what was going on and he sternly folded his arms to exercise his due authority.

"Whether you agree with me or not, you need to think of yourself." He sighed heavily at the brief malcontent twitch of the man's lips caused by each of his statements. "You will finish a complete round of antibiotics and you will get some decent rest." He paused waiting and then made a slightly disgruntled face when he received no response. "Commander?"

Hunch-shouldered and more pale than warranted, his patient was sore and weary from his own injuries. The sling had long ago been abandoned with excuses that the fabric was simply too restrictive and his penchant to disengage the intravenous line was beyond frustrating. While a few cracked ribs, a multitude of bruises and a manageable infection might not be considered as dangerous as the unseen wrongs inflicted within the detective, they were still nothing to completely ignore.

"He's going to sleep for at least two or three hours. If we're lucky, maybe even four," the physician reminded Steve as he realized something important about what he'd just learned from the man's own softly voiced conversation. His change of tact was only meant to be kind and as such, was also to be considered admirable since his goals were sound. With a gentle self-satisfied smile, he mentally congratulated himself when he at least got a terse nod of acknowledgement after he finished speaking. "There's been some major improvements in your partner's condition, but he's definitely going to need you when he wakes up. Please take advantage of the time to help yourself first, so you can be there for him later."

After the doctor's short lecture, Steve released Danny's wrist to tiredly drag both of his hands over his face. "Okay," he whispered through his fingers. His eyes burned and he was beyond the ache of simple muscle strain. In fact, he was bordering on downright miserable as his fever stayed above normal ranges. He was indeed taking chances and if Danny needed him a few hours from now, Steve was pushing an envelope that could prove personally problematic.

"You're right," Steve murmured in agreement, though nothing he was feeling could even compare to the depths of what Danny was experiencing. Steve knew that to be an absolute truth if Danny'd been able to string more than two whole words cohesively together in his fragmented brain.

He stood slowly, a bit off balance and stiff from injuries which were making themselves more unhappily known with each passing minute. It was no lie that he needed to rest, yet Steve looked one final time at Danny to content himself with the decision. His own bed was only five feet away. What separated them now would be a cheap night table and the blue-checked material of two flimsy privacy curtains: neither of which would actually be drawn.

He could deal with that and accept the doctor's sensible advice. Without another contrary word, Steve climbed into the neighboring hospital bed. He didn't move nor object to the pain medication administered by the very same on-duty nurse sent back in by the doctor. By the time he'd been re-attached to the antibiotic drip, his own eyes were tightly closed and he was sinking deeply into the bedding.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

_**Notes**_: a rather harsh flashback - for me anyway!

**Chapter Seven**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

'_Get up! Now ... Get up!' Danny trembled at the hate riddling the man's voice. He'd made a mistake by daring to close his eyes for a few desperate minutes of peaceful rest._

_'Up, or your friend suffers more than he is now. What happens to him will be on your head!'_

_'Steve.' Danny mentally whispered the name as he tried to do what was demanded. He tried, but failed in each and every sad attempt to just roll over onto his side. He couldn't oblige the orders no matter how hard he tried because his limbs simply refused to obey his own nearly frantic commands. With a groan, he fell limply to his back, arms and legs sprawled across the ground. 'Can't ... can't ... can't, he pleaded softly under his breath._

_Exhausted and weakened beyond belief, there was no way he could get up, at least not unaided. He grunted and shook his head uselessly as brutal hands gripped __his arms from where he'd once been tethered spread eagled to the floor. Dragged upwards, fingers entangled themselves then in his hair, to help heave him the rest of the way to his feet._

_'Where is the safe house?' The fingers released their tight hold and Danny's head bobbled on his neck as a sneering face entered his line of sight. Nose to nose, his head was torn backwards once more by a fisted wad of hair when his chin hit his chest so he'd be able to look the mercenary in the eye. 'This will stop if you just tell us where it is. Tell me. Where's the safe house and then we'll let you sleep.'_

_'You ... don't know?' Danny smirked wearily before he gave a poor facsimile of a shrug. 'Funny ... I don't ... know... either.' He didn't recognize his own voice for the broken rasp of exhaustion, but he clearly saw the man's expression alter to one of fury._

_'Don't know,' Danny murmured, a giggle rising to the surface despite what was bound to come next. His head was released once more and the men holding him up shifted his weight in as if in warning. There was the briefest of lulls as he sagged dangerously between his circle of abusers, until spurred into motion by being roughly dragged down a narrow corridor._

_'Run then', the mercenary snarled. He was still close in Danny's ear, the warmth of his breath displacing the cold sweat on Danny's cheek. The corridor was reduced to a pinprick of hazy light and dark. He no longer could make out anyone's faces. He could only hear their jeers and laughter as the supportive hands disappeared and he was pushed violently forward. Danny staggered badly into the corridor's thick stone walls, his bare shoulder connecting hard with the rough surface. He was sure he was going to die then because there was no way he could simply stand up, let alone walk or even run. Trembling, Danny shook his head again, falling to one knee in the process only to be pulled up by his arm._

_'Move! Run now. Run for us and don't stop!' He teetered, slipping badly as he forced his nonexistent legs to listen. The faceless shapes had spread out along the narrow space in front of him and Danny hesitated, shaking, his arms help up high to protect his face. _

_'It's time to play,' a voice leered just before he was pushed again. ''Think of your partner. Think of what we'll do to him next.' Danny tried to move, but got just so far to chants of 'run! move! run!'. He dry heaved halfway through the gauntlet of hands which slapped his head, cheeks, or pummeled his bare back hard enough to take whatever air remained out of his lungs. Seconds later, he'd fallen to his hands and knees gagging and spitting up bile until a booted foot pushed him flat._

_'Please', he muttered as he finally fell,__ sprawled flat onto his chest. Arms wide and limp, his right cheek connected with the hard concrete floor last with a concussive force, leaving him stunned and virtually non responsive for a good many seconds._

_'Do you remember now?' The man was on his hands and knees, peering rudely into Danny's ashen face. "Hey? Where is it?" He patted Danny's sweat-stained cheek gently before lobbing a hard smack which made his eyes tear. The threat was clear, however he was beyond being able to do a single thing to protect himself._

_'Sorry,' Danny gagged around a broken whisper, his voice shattered and now barely audible. 'No. Don't know ... don't ... sorry.'_

_'Well, then. That's too bad for you.' A hand reached out to gently caress his cheek once more. The touch lingered and was sickly wrong in its false tenderness which Danny quickly learned as the fingers swept upwards to once again drag painfully into the roots of his hair. His head was lifted a few inches before being dropped back to the unforgiving floor. When his cheek rebounded against the stone, he bit his tongue, wincing at the tannic taste of blood. _

_'Have it your way.' The accompanying snicker faded along with the man who'd been on his knees. But they were far from done with him. In fact, they were just beginning._

_'Give him a bath first.' Another voice cackled from overhead and Danny closed his eyes waiting through an excruciatingly long moment passed where he almost had time to zone off, uncaring of what might happen next. His tired brain trilled a warning about his inaction, yet he couldn't move. Dimly, he heard a metallic sound combined with what sounded like a tell-tale slosh of water. Eyes closed and unable to escape, Danny was lost now to real thought and he feebly gagged where he lay. _

_'This will make you feel better!' W__ithout warning, Danny jolted roughly against the hard stone of his prison as water was dumped perfectly and ceremonially along the length of his body. He flailed weakly, only capable of curling into a near-fetal position as the bucket of ice cold water was deliberately used to liberally drench every part of his skin from head to foot._

_'Please,' he finally whimpered his first real plea in true fear when another bucket followed the first before he was dragged ruthlessly to his feet. His teeth chattered uncontrollably in his head as any hope of just standing on his own was truly a hopeless cause as cruel laughter reached his muddled brain._

_'Chain him up. Higher!' He groaned loudly as his wrists were bound together and then stretched relentlessly over his head. _

_'Please,' he gagged brokenly as the pain rippled from his arms and through his neck to sit deeply in hyperextended shoulders. His mind cried out for them to stop, but __he knew there would be no respite; absolutely no empathy as his cold wet skin connected with a colder stone wall. His shoulders screamed in agony as he was hoisted up, his back scratched and bruised by the rough concrete._

_'Still ... you don't remember?' The voice was in his ear. Close, as heated breath puffed across his cheek. 'The safe house ... where is it?'_

_'No ...,' Danny forced out one last time. _

_There was one last condescending pat to his cheek ... and then the crescendo of music had begun ..._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Danny tore himself awake at the frightful agony of the memory. It was vivid enough and he moved now, forcing himself to his feet but not getting very far. Breathing raspily through his mouth, Danny peered through the dark at the grayish blurred shape lying across from where he leaned. Slouched in a near-seated position, he was barely on his feet and just squinting at the strange bumpy outline. Not quite awake and yet not really asleep, his brain refused to provide an answer to what he was seeing. He shifted his position slightly, wincing as his muscles and joints ached with a vengeance. Soft music trickled through the air, reaching him to displace the the strange deafening buzz in his ears. Danny focused on that for as long as he could before it was too much to cope with. He wound up cupping the palm of his hand to one side of his head, briefly closing his eyes at the volume of painful pressure inside. He felt exactly as if he had the flu down to the thick wadding of heaviness packed inside his head which made thinking hard and any type of concentration completely impossible.

"Please," he whispered out loud because he didn't know what to do. Sweat had now begun to bead his forehead as his sense of apprehension grew to an astronomical high. His breathing quickened and the hand which had been at his head, fell to bunch the material at his chest. He needed to think despite the thickness in his head and the tangible thudding of his heart because something was wrong.

_They'd_ kept him in the dark. _They'd_ threatened Steve, then had tormented him until he forgot almost how to breathe. _They'd_ taken Steve and he needed to find him before it was too late.

_But too late for what? For him ... or was it too late for Steve? Maybe it was for someone else entirely?_

He wasn't sure and moaned softly in frustration as if he was missing a critical link. He was only sure that these very real thoughts were the culprits for his anxiety and strong desire to get away. But he didn't know where to go and could barely stand tall from where he had propped himself up. He was forever bone-weary and still not thinking clearly enough from the effects of the nightmare to know anything for sure.

The murky black of a phantom shadow whipped his head to the right and his red-rimmed eyes searched vainly for the intruder. He woke a bit more then, becoming fractionally more alert to realize in embarrassment that nothing was there. Nonetheless, his heartbeat was off kilter as he failed to breathe more normally.

"What's that?' Danny whispered as he turned his head again, confused by an inky-onyx like shine. The room he was in was dark, but not so dark that he couldn't see his reflection in the glass of a window.

"_Window_?" Danny frowned thoughtfully as he forced his eyes to focus and his brain to understand what he was seeing. His earlier wakings were different from this. In the dark of night, the aura in the room was entirely different and the evil of the dream hadn't helped. He found himself staring at the black reflective shine because there had been no window where _they'd_ kept him trapped. The intensity of his frown deepened, lines scoring his pale face and ruining the usual laugh-lines that framed his eyes. That window drew him to his feet and he stumbled forward, almost tripping when his legs refused to hold him up with any reliability. He wobbled across the floor to hit the window frame and its deep inner ledge hard, slapping one hand into the cold glass and bruising his hip bone in the process.

"Hospital." He berated himself a few seconds later, his eyes momentarily wrinkling in comprehension when his blurry mirrored reflection dissolved and he could see the sparkle of city lights below him. A thought trickled in that it was Steve sleeping in the opposite bed and Danny tried to shake himself from the vestiges of the nightmarish images which lingered in his head. He should have asked long ago; it obviously meant Steve was hurt and Dany didn't even know how or what was wrong. Fully waking and getting his head in a more coherent place wasn't an easy task to do though when something inside still wanted him to run ... _flee_ ... begged him to find some sort of safer place to be.

"No," Danny murmured quietly. He was wrong. That drive to get away was entirely wrong because Steve was fine. They were both already safely home. With a disgusted sigh at the miserable speed of his poor memories and his inability to fully conquer his edgy emotions, Danny placed his forehead against the glass. He dimly understood that he could hear the subtle strains of violins now within the softly piped-in music, yet he was too tired to even feel thankful enough to smile. Instead, he simply closed his eyes feeling as if he could sleep standing up precisely where he rested.

His activity though had definitely disturbed Steve. In his sleep, he had picked up on the new sounds. Danny's thump into the window was unconsciously disconcerting enough to rouse Steve and to make him fidget. A few minutes later, he rolled over onto his back and reluctantly opened his eyes trying to figure out what he might have heard or sensed. It was dark though and at first, he didn't hear anything but as soon as he turned his head to check on Danny, he was yanking on his IV port to get it disengaged. With a grimace for the breath-taking ache which rang through his body, followed closely by a soft curse about a wave of blackish sparkling dizziness, he was on his feet and taking half the bedding with him to the floor.

"Hey?" Steve croaked, his voice thick not only with sleep but with a bit of his own unsteadiness. He cleared his throat and forced himself to focus as he approached the shadowed outline of his partner.

"What're you doing?" He'd been stunned by the empty disheveled bed next to him, yet now alternately relieved to find Danny braced up against the window. However, his friend had his back to him and was barely moving except for the tremble of his shoulders. Hunched over and protecting his sore ribs, Steve carefully rounded on Danny then, concerned by the sickly hue and unhealthy shine of the pale skin reflecting back like a mirror in the thin pane of glass. Shallow and much too rapid breathing fogged the window over and over, testament to whatever stress Danny was experiencing.

"Danny. Are you okay, buddy?" Steve softly whispered. "Take it easy. Do you remember where you are? The hospital?"

At the sound of Steve's voice, Danny shivered from a reactive fear which he couldn't control. He was driven to move again but rubbery legs refused the order. His fingers tightened against the thin inside ledge as he partly opened his eyes and gazed again through the window to stare at the array of tiny sparkling lights far below. Feeling soothed by the cool pressure as he tried to get himself under control, he kept his forehead rocked against the glass.

"S..t... stve?" Danny slaughtered his friend's name on a shuddered exhale. At first he thought he should apologize for disturbing Steve, then he wanted to add that he did know where he was, but all that came out was a strangled, giddy laugh. It was harsh even in his abused ears and he flinched at the tone of the sound which was completely unlike himself; _borderline hysterica_l his brain generously offered to supply. And at that, Danny almost laughed again. His muscles were shaking in earnest from fatigue and he didn't dare release the deathgrip he had on the window's narrow frame. His eyes were as dry as sand and held an endless ache; in fact, there wasn't a portion of his body which didn't plainly _hurt_.

"Steve," he whispered more clearly. While he could hear, sounds were muted and the feeling of being deaf worsened if the ringing sharpened in his ears. Those things were disconcerting and a direct antithesis to the rapidly throbbing pulse point in the base of his neck. He knew that his breathing was much too fast as he fought the dual war in his head: one which demanded a feral need to run and another which was trying to dictate a better sense of reason.

He knew all of these things with his rational mind. Nonetheless, he was still disoriented and lost between what was real versus nightmare. Because of what was beginning to feel like a panic attack of epic proportions, he was wholly unable to help himself react the way he should.

"Danny?" Steve paused a solid two feet away from his friend not quite knowing what to do. He'd seen the shocked jolt run through Danny's body and then heard the sharply barked laugh. It wasn't really a laugh at all though, and Steve outwardly winced at the tinny, biting noise. Uncertain by the signals being thrown his way, where he would have originally taken Danny's arm, he now hesitated. "Danny, what do you need? How can I help?"

Seconds passed and there was no reply though Steve could see Danny's mouth trying to form words. There was finally a loudly chuffed sound, still half giggle yet punctuated by a moan. That final plaintive sound did make Steve close the short distance between them and he automatically now put a hand sturdily under Danny's elbow.

"Bad dream?" Steve guessed. His lips moved into a worried tight line when he didn't understand the inaudible retort but evidently the nighttime terror had been a bad dream times ten. The slurred mumble included a frightening remnant of that same nervous giggle and Steve certainly heard that though. He growled softly under his breath at the magnitude of whatever had prompted Danny to get out of bed so abruptly in such a truly frightened state.

"Tell me how I can help," Steve softly reiterated, his concern growing higher when his friend swallowed convulsively. "Danno?"

"Don't know," Danny finally muttered, his lips briefly twitching into an embarrassed fake half-smile of sorts. He was bone-weary and completely out of sorts. Getting his head out of the strong barbaric memories was a continuing struggle. The only two things he could feel with any clarity at that point was the cold smooth window pane and the strong hold related to Steve's presence. With another strong swallow, what he managed to say came out as a tentative question. "Stay?"

His forehead was glued to the cold pane and his knuckles whitened from his grip on the wooden frame. He didn't react when he felt Steve take both of his arms to turn him completely away from the window. He stumbled forward into Steve's chest as his legs seized, nearly falling. His inability to get his body to work correctly had Steve taking more than half his weight. Danny wanted to apologize again because he heard the subtle hiss of his friend's own pain and it was the perfect time to ask about Steve's own injuries. Yet Danny forgot to ask as fingers drilled painfully into his skin.

He sagged until he managed to get his wobbly knees to lock, yet there was no waver in the strong fingers which were now embedded so soothingly in his arms. Another short half giggle burbled below the surface because Danny thought that the desperate hold might leave bruises for the strength it, but Danny needed the grounding - he needed to know what was real. And though he might be mortified about his actions later when he felt better, Steve was that lifeline.

"Please. Stay?" Danny's eyes were tightly closed as Steve carefully enveloped him in a hug which both held him upright and calmed some of the overpowering tension away. Stuck in place, all he could do was whisper another kind of plea as the comforting embrace grounded his soul. "Just ... don't ... _leave_."

"I told you before, Danno," Steve muttered into the top of his friend's head, his breath moving a few pale strands of hair. He understood the depths of the nightmare and its origins in the violence of the experience within the bunker. He understood because he'd seen it and he easily repeated his very first vow from their time on the beach before Chin had arrived to bring them home. "I got you and it's over. It's over and I'm not going anywhere. We're going to do this together."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Chapter Eight**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Steve needed help in getting Danny back to bed. That happened between the voicing of slightly awkward apologies and Steve's insistence that none were ever needed. By then, neither of them cared who might be in the room either. An army might have encircled the two men, and not just the one night nurse and aide, when Danny was settled comfortably back where he'd been so anxiously perched after the frightful wakening. Apologies came and went, as did the constant reassurances that things were fine.

Thirty-five minutes had elapsed since Danny's episode and Steve was still stubbornly on his feet. Scarcely ten minutes earlier, Danny had finally closed his eyes due to his body's ongoing desperation to rest coupled with Steve's vows that he wasn't going anywhere despite the proof of their matching attire and neighboring hospital beds. But Steve's demonstration only led Danny down another path because he obviously was indeed a sick patient.

_"You don't look so good," Danny had complained slowly, owlishly eyeing Steve's bruised face and weary posture. He'd picked his words slowly and carefully as he squinted in a vain attempt to determine the source of Steve's slope-shouldered and off-kilter slouch, but came up empty. He was too tired to think, didn't feel like guessing, and was entirely confused by Steve's patient smile. "What's ... wrong? What's broken?"_

_"Nothing's broken. Just bumps and bruises, Danno," Steve shrugged carefully through a short answer. "That's all ... just a few bumps and bruises."_

_The resulting sound Danny made was both rude and entirely disbelieving. It set the nurse to softly laughing and the aide grinning. However, before Danny could even question how long they'd been bedside roommates his eyes were already closed and nothing more was exchanged. _

"I thought he was getting better," Steve admitted to the nurse who remained standing across from him. "He's barely made any sense and then earlier today, he did, and he seemed so much better. Now though. _Now_, this nightmare of a _dream_. It was more flashback than dream."

"I understand your concern, but he's definitely improving," the nurse promised, still amused by Danny's disagreeable complaints regarding the real truth about his partner's apparent condition. "A person doesn't dream if they're not achieving a REM state, no matter how brief. The doctor's last EEG and the notes on file agree that he's improving. He was a little out of sorts, but fairly coherent once he realized where he was. Dreams are to be expected and really, this one didn't seem to be too bad."

"Not bad?" Steve snorted under his breath at the woman's ludicrous comment. He understood her intention to be soothing, but she couldn't have been further off the mark with her ignorant statement. He could easily imagine how Danny must have originally railed against their captors. He knew without a shadow of a doubt, that there had been rounds of anger and a very real fury as the abuse escalated. Danny had a smart mouth and a profound temper when provoked. In a way, Steve was surprised that his partner actually had very little bruising except for a few marks on his face and the severe bruising to his wrists. Everything else which had been done to deny him sleep, resided inside where it couldn't be so obviously seen. Inside his head with ramifications that directly impacted the health of his body: and were the impetus for nightmares which were much too realistic.

Steve knew that his partner had fought back. Based upon what had first been done to him, Danny's defensive responses would only have been natural, too; completely understandable and entirely warranted. He would have escalated in kind in response to his treatment just as Steve had responded during his own antagonistic rounds with the small group. Regardless of the sizable unfairness of the odds, he would have ramped up defensively as if in a real contest with the ones holding all the cards.

In fact, each of them had fought back in the very beginning before truly knowing that a partner and friend had also been abducted. With that knowledge in hand, a new game had been thrust upon them and their interrogations had escalated. While this might have changed responses to protect the other, it was definitely not the handicap which the mercenaries had assumed though. What they'd done was inadvertently release nothing but a new threat against only themselves.

"Danny, Danny, Danny," Steve senselessly sighed his friend's name along with a deep-seated groan as he continued to stand over his partner. "What are we going to do?" His chest burned from the pressure he was exerting on his ribs and he was becoming mentally exhausted just by bearing witness to the ongoing after-effects of Danny's condition. He was still tired after being woken from his own sleep, but he couldn't move from his latest bedside vigil.

"_We_ are going back to sleep, Commander. He's sleeping," the nurse whispered reassuringly as she tried to catch his eye. "His vitals are stabilizing nicely and he's relaxed for a change. It's not even two o'clock in the morning and you need to get back into bed, too."

But he ignored the advice since the issue was that Steve, himself, couldn't tell if Danny was properly sleeping. He could only hope that he was because at some point along the line, Danny'd been duly broken down and practically shattered. To build upon the physical strain of sleep deprivation, Steve felt that the final proverbial straw was the mercenaries' apparent use of Danny's daughter, Grace, as some kind of added leverage. Steve didn't know what that was or how that particular threat had been delivered. It was worrisome in its lack of definition. The good news was that Grace had always been safe and she was safe that very moment; the little girl was never in any particular danger. In spite of that and because of his beleaguered state while being physically and mentally torn down, her father never would have rationalized that truth at the time.

Still, Steve's guilt rose exponentially even there was nothing he could have done to help Danny except for precisely what he'd done in the end. Wondering exactly how long Danny's full recovery might take, Steve ignored the nurse's prodding to have him return to his own bed. He frowned cautiously when he saw Danny's face scrunch momentarily before falling lax once more. Yet he only managed to pay the woman some mind when she literally poked her face under his nose. Steve blinked in surprise wondering when she'd snuck so quietly around the foot of the bed to gently take his arm.

"Your turn," the nurse said firmly as she turned him deftly away from his post while voicing her repetitious and now very adamant demand. "He's sleeping again and you need to take advantage of the time."

To patronize her, Steve allowed himself to be shoe-horned back under a light sheet. She took time to check his vitals, nodding in approval at an improvement in his slightly elevated temperature. But then she realized that he'd once more disengaged the IV drip.

"Seriously, Commander?" Her tone alone communicated her ongoing disapproval of his tactics as she grabbed his wrist. He smiled lamely up into her face as she refused to budge from her position. This time her expression was entirely disagreeable about his ongoing methods. "It stays or else!"

Before allowing him to fully rest though, she was checking his records, leaving the room and then returning quickly with a small cup of pills and water. "It's time for your pain meds," the nurse explained. Her next comment bordered on a certain threat which Steve understood. "I'd like you to take them and _please_ get some rest. This is exactly the reason your doctor wanted Detective Williams in a private room; he's quite adamant that you get your rest, too."

She meant that neither she nor their physician needed to have a second sleep deprived patient when it was completely avoidable. Their good doctor specifically didn't feel that one patient should disturb or jeopardize the recovery of another. In fact, the hospital's skill staff were quite expert in managing all of their patient's needs. In short, because Steve couldn't stay put and accept his own treatment, he was soon to prove the doctor right in his initial assessment regarding Danny's specialized needs and penchant to be accidentally disruptive.

Still, Steve balked until the nurse's head cocked warningly towards the pill cup he now held in his right hand. It was no lie that he was in pain and under other circumstances, he'd down them with gratitude. His eyes fell on Danny's face though and he frowned as his partner's forehead momentarily creased as if in thought. He didn't want to sleep in case he was needed again; but there was no way of knowing if or when that could happen.

"He'll be fine," the nurse assured him. "Neither of you are alone and you'll be able to help him more if you also get your rest. I'll be sure to come in more often to check on both of you."

Steve heaved in a deep sigh, only to let it out slowly. He nodded resentfully before downing the two small pills, briefly smiling back when she patted his hand in approval. But as soon as she'd left the room, he was up and sitting on the side of his mattress staring once more at Danny's face.

Danny sighed softly, his face briefly showing a flicker of worried discomfort. He'd been zoning in and out, something which he didn't want to have as his new normal. Words came and went around him peacefully. Steve's voice to his left and then that of the nurse from somewhere to his right. He allowed their soft tones to just happen, but now he was picking up on a few key words said before the nurse left the room. He waited a few seconds to be sure and then shifted slightly, turning his head towards Steve's bed.

"She ... gone?" The gravelly murmur from Danny's side of the room happened ten seconds after the nurse departed and Steve gave out with a lop-sided grin. His gut instinct was sadly correct in that his friend hadn't been exactly asleep. Dozing possibly, but not yet entirely asleep.

"Yeah," he replied. With a guilty look towards the corridor, he disengaged the IV promising that he'd put it right back before he slid from his bed to sit next to Danny's hip. Steve tilted his head quizzically as their eyes met. Danny looked decidedly more aware, but equally as fatigued. He felt another small stab of guilt, this time for questioning his partner's recovery and having been so negative about the nightmare. He sighed to hide a worried grimace. "What did you hear? Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"You're hurting?" Danny quietly pushed for more, a bleary look aimed accusingly at his friend. His head was more in the right place and he knew that he hadn't been given the whole story about his Steve's own injuries. Now, he wasn't willing to hear anything but the entire truth no matter how badly his eyes burned in his head. "She gave you pain medication? Why?"

"Just a little sore," Steve admitted just as quietly, yet a small smile was back to tease his lips. Of all the things to eavesdrop on, Danny had managed to hear that one thing. He wanted to add '_not as bad as you_', but he bit his tongue and gave Danny what he hoped was a calming look. "You're going to work through this, Danno. You managed to sleep for an hour or even two already. You're body's on the right track."

"Says you ... who ... knows what's ... real," Danny whispered, a frightening trill of a hysterical giggle closing out the last syllable. His next words were barely audible, but their gruffness belied another emotional state. Even back in bed and off his feet, and with a battalion of people taking care of him, Danny was having a terrible time trying to cope with how his body was feeling.

"You know what's real," Steve objected quietly. He would have argued more about that point and the difficulty which Danny had in fully waking if he hadn't been interrupted. Surprisingly, and though his voice waxed and waned in strength, Danny managed to share what was still making him so unsettled.

"I barely knew where I was ... or when ... I wasn't sure if I was awake or not. I remembered everything and it felt like I was back there again. It was so real. Now that I'm awake, I can't tell you exactly what they did ... if it was real or if I dreamt it ... but I still _feel_ it ... I _feel_ it, Steve."

"Take it easy. It's normal, Danny, and anyone would feel the same after a nightmare like that," Steve replied as his grin quickly faded in concern when he sensed the rise of exhausted tears threatening Danny's voice. "After what you went through, I know it's hard and seems impossible, but you should try to relax. You only need time, Danny."

"I know ... get ... some sleep. Right?" Danny murmured wryly around a giddy bubble that once more threatened to burst free from his throat. To beat back the sound, Danny swallowed hard and rolled over on his side to rub his face into the pillow. His eyes throbbed along with a weary ache in his head, but he was at a loss on how to manage what he craved.

"Trying. Want ... to. I do." Danny's clipped and muffled words came out as if they were literally being pulled from his chest. He wanted to sleep so badly that he honestly did hurt with every fiber of his being. And he had slept for maybe an hour or two, though the nightmare had taken root to disturb that little portion of peace. The crux of the issue was inside his uncooperative brain. So now, his eyes remained closed as his voice faded away, yet his hand automatically strayed to the side of his head above his right ear. But he was prevented from wending his fingers painfully into his hair when Steve's hand snared his wrist.

"Don't do that," Steve whispered, his eyes suddenly more fearful. "You're going to hurt yourself. Stop ... stop it, Danny."

The action always resulted in Danny rending at his hair as if that too hurt, and Steve couldn't bear the thought of what was looking like an obsessive compulsive habit. Instead, he maintained a hold of Danny's wrist and then looped and trapped his friend's fingers within his second hand to stay any more of the odd movement.

"Don't know," Danny chuffed so softly that Steve almost missed the words. And it was true, he didn't know why his fingers strayed to pull and tangle in his hair. Maybe it was in response to his disobedient brain or something more. He didn't know and couldn't explain any single part of his fluctuating emotions.

"It was so real," he murmured softly. "So ... so real."

"No. No, this is real, Danno," Steve said as his fingers tightened when Danny tried to pull away again. "Right here and now."

Danny's pulse was a rapid thud felt much too easily under the bruised skin of his wrist. Steve grimaced unhappily at the staccato pace, yet was relieved when he felt some of the tension eking out of Danny's body. He waited longer, sensing a subtle change as his friend slowly relaxed and the illogical urge to find that spot above his ear was forgotten. Danny might not have been fully asleep by that point, but the tug in that better direction was stronger and Steve found a gentle smile before uttering his final and very soft reassuring whisper.

"Try to go back to sleep. Like I said before, I'm not going anywhere, buddy."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

_**Notes**_: another mean flashback ...sorry, had to go here .. these guys were bad and Danny terribly affected.

**Chapter Nine**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* **

Steve sat on the edge of Danny's bed until his friend's breathing truly evened out and the fingers he held between his two hands went completely limp. Only then did he return to his own bed with a bone-weary sigh. He dutifully re-engaged the intravenous line to complete the round of antibiotics. As his eyes blinked painfully even against the dim light emanating in from the corridor, it was more than obvious that the pain medication which the nurse had given him, had long ago begun to do its job. Now there was no way he could stay awake and he made a silent request to whomever might be listening that both he and Danny gain some valuable rest that night. Steve's eyes closed quickly and he was sound asleep after only one subtle fidget to readjust his injured shoulder and more comfortably brace his sore ribs.

There was no movement in the hospital room for nearly three peacefully uninterrupted hours. But as dawn approached, Danny's eyes began a wild nightmarish march behind his tightly closed lids. Sweat once more dotted his brow and his breathing began to alter. The low frightened moan began at the base of his throat and it escalated in its intensity as the misery of his dream gained its own intensity to thrive in its victim's mind.

'_What's this?' One of the mercenary's had found Danny's wallet. He had gone through each leather fold casually and with a rude, flamboyant ease. Danny's ID and a few credit cards were dropped to the ground, kicked aside when two photographers were discovered. _

_Danny stiffened instantly as the pictures were shared amongst the men, each breaking into knowing smiles as they glanced to him to measure his reaction before returning to their latest game. Their find had wiped all his exhaustion away as he forgot how to breathe._

_'Hey, boss,' a second mercenary had peered over their leader's shoulder, leering obscenely at the picture of Grace. 'Aww, she's a pretty little thing. There's something special about a little girl in a school uniform. Don't you think?'_

_'Don't do it,' Danny had snarled in anger, already lost in his vow to have remained silent as a round of appreciative cackles filled the small room. 'You ... seriously ... don't want to go there.' Immediately on edge, Danny hadn't been able to hold back his reactive jolt of fatherly anger at the lewd insinuations._

_'What's the ASH on the uniform? Catholic school for sure ... daddy cares about baby's education?' The first had maliciously teased, one eyebrow lifted as if he truly cared. 'First word '__academy' maybe? Academy of what?'_

_'Geez, a bloody academy? Maybe this guy has more money than we thought ... just maybe after he tells us where the safe house is, we can triple our take.' Another had barked out a laugh at his joke. Something which Danny didn't immediately understand, but the intention had become more clear as the game began. The one speaking had looked studiously at Danny the entire time, his expression changing from falsely pleasant to dangerous within a split second of time. 'Let's play word association ... any takers on what the 'S' stands for, boys?'_

_'Shut up,' Danny had said, his voice shaking so badly, that he couldn't have managed to stay calm if he'd given any effort to try. But this game about Grace and her school was more than he could take. More than he could even cope with. 'Leave her out of this ... you can't ... she's a kid.'_

_The men had laughed at his distress; they had chuffed knowing, pleased sounds as their victim's entire demeanor changed within less than two heartbeats._

_'Where's the house? Where's our boy and will consider leaving your baby girl ... alone.' He had heaved in a wild breath, his heart nearly beating out of his chest in fear. Yet Danny had shaken his head to deny the man, his dread growing exponentially. _

_'And then the 'H' is for heart? I can't think of any saints named with the letter 'h'.' With a shrug at Danny's refusal, he had continued his nasty guessing game with a gleeful smirk as he watched Danny's face open like a book. More pushing would break their already exhausted man and he'd eventually talk. He had smirked happily as he leaned into Danny's personal space. 'I see ... Academy of something Heart? Am I closer? What grade is she in then? Maybe fifth or sixth ... just the right age for ... boys.'_

_'Or men,' the second added, clearly recognizing that they'd finally found a stronger catalyst to goad and manipulate their distraught hostage. 'And like I said before, there is something very special indeed about a little girl in a uniform.'_

_"I'm warning you ... not to go there,' Danny had said, tears sparkling at the futility of his situation as he'd pulled relentlessly on his bound hands. His worst nightmare had come true and he was useless in preventing this new danger from possibly touching his daughter. 'Put the pictures down.'_

_'How do you know what I like or don't like ... do you think I care about what you want?' The second had pushed his leader aside to get directly into Danny's face, which had been much too easy as their victim was trussed tightly up against the stone wall. Using his body to hold Danny in place, the mercenary had physically rocked into him before placing the muzzle of his weapon against his temple. _

_'She's pure? Special? Daddy's little girl?' He had used the cold steel to caress Danny's head gently, tracing the curve of Danny's cheekbone, along his eye and up into his hair as if using his fingers. He had grinned at the volume of rage he could feel coursing through the detective's body. He'd laughed when he'd recognized the tears for what they were. They'd found the good father's weakness and toying with him had become good fun, indeed. With a knowing glance shared amongst his own partners, he'd turn back to Danny for more vicious teasing. 'Maybe she likes father figures? She'll need one after I finish with you.'_

_'You couldn't ... handle me ... if you tried,' Danny had growled, biting back a groan when an unexpected back-handed slap had his head connecting with the wall. 'Why don't ... you ... cut me down ... will have a go ... together?' Tears sparkled in his eyes and as his anger grew, he pulled senselessly on his bound wrists. He had watched in horror as the two pictures were turned over and over in __the leader's dirty fingers._

_'But I like you just where you are,' the second had whispered into Danny's ear. He'd only stepped away from Danny's trapped body at the first's falsely impressed sound of interest. 'What boss?'_

_'Listen up, boys. Our pretty little one's name is Grace.' The leader had grinned lewdly as he provided his team with more damaging information. He had intentionally rubbed his thumb over the glossy finish of the photo, grinning the entire time. 'So she is ... she is. Grace. Lovely, little Gracie.'_

_'I'll get you money,' Danny hissed, his hands were fisted above his head now. 'Just ... leave her out ... of this.' He struggled anew, gouging deeper wounds into his already badly bruised wrists while a tear escaped down his cheek in frustration. He blinked rapidly as his heart had nearly stopped when his handwritten notes on the back of each precious photograph were read out loud and Grace's name was bounced rudely around the room. He was now well beyond caring about himself as the leader, eyes glittering happily, had the absolute gall to kiss the photo._

_"I swear ... to god. I'll kill you if you even look at her ... I will,' Danny vowed through a choked sobbed which nearly had strangled the remaining breath he had left in his chest. 'I'm going to kill you. I will ... I'll kill you.'_

_'You can try. But since you can't seem to remember what we want to know about the safe house ...,' the man taunted mercilessly. '...first you ... then her? How does that sound? Or maybe we'll just leave you here and pay a visit to her school? Is she waiting for you ... is she waiting for daddy to come and get her?'_

_'Where's. The. House?' The second had turned on Danny once more. His eyes had narrowed in pleasure at the sight of the glassy-eyed tears, rivulets of sweat and stunned tremble vibrating through the detective. '__Where's our boy and will consider leaving your baby girl ... alone.' _

_Danny had really considered speaking then. He had almost revealed the truth at that point, but he'd violently shaken his head to the negative, nearly hitting his own head on the stone wall behind him. Instead of talking, he had grappled with his exhaustion, fear and vivid imagination. Heartbroken about Grace, he had focused on the thinning threat of his mission as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood._

_'Cut me loose,' Danny had practically begged. His voice was hoarse, his words had been fractured and lacked import as he began to hyperventilate. He was stuck, defenseless and nowhere even close to begin able to protect his daughter. The men had watched with a malicious glee as he'd come even more undone ... more unhinged ... from something they'd likely never follow through on. _

_'Why don't you cut me down?' Danny ground out, virtually having gone mad at that point. 'Damned cowards ... stay away from my daughter!' ... - _and that was where his memory had morphed completely into that of another nightmare. His mind exacerbated the bad to make it many times more evil. Stuck in a terrible time and a place now made of shadows, threats and fear, Danny couldn't find his tongue. It was as if his very mouth had been glued shut and the words remained balled up inside his throat.

He tried to open his mouth to shout and rage to protect those he loved. Yet over and over again, he failed and began to panic in his mind.

In the hospital bed, his eyes rolled ceaselessly behind his lids. Muscles tensed and trembled at the larger than life faceless menace. Originally inaudible moans became frightened nonsensical whimpers and only one word was mouthed on repetitive raspy exhales.

_"Grace, Grace!" _Danny's terrified broken whimpers and the horrific violence of the nightmare brought him surging upwards. Eyes wide, heaving in strangled breaths of air, Danny dry-heaved and retched into the crook of his arm.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	10. Chapter 10

** I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **sorry for the long delay! The original version didn't sit right on second (third, fourth, fifth) readings, so the muse demanded that it needed a rehash (ad nauseum) ... to top things off, work/RL has been quite busy for me this past week.

**Chapter Ten**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Steve heard his name being called and frowned uncomfortably at the prospect of fully waking. The distant voice definitely belonged to Danny, but he was loathe to move from the peace of sleep. Prompted at first by pain medication, his body had won the battle with its stubborn owner. Now, Steve easily found himself too content to move and possibly a bit resentful at being disturbed. He shifted under the light sheets in an attempt to avoid the inevitable. His waking thoughts were admittedly plain and more than a bit foggy, nonetheless he could recognize that he was decidedly ill and he wondered how he could be both content and not feel well at the same time. Maybe now that he'd admitted to being more than slightly tired and quite possibly badly under the weather than he'd been letting on, it was time to mumble a disagreeable sound about being disturbed under his breath. But maintaining an uncomplicated plane was difficult as Danny called him again and he simultaneously shivered from a sickly place deep inside his core.

"_D'nno_," he exhaled a portion of his friend's name while rolling his shoulders into the pillows to settle back to the place where he didn't have to think too hard nor realize that he didn't quite feel well. But he felt something else then ... there was a certain way the bed vibrated ever so slightly, the odd sensation suddenly compounded by a much too tight grip on his wrist. Rousing more as the aura around him sparked with a forboding, Steve's frown increased ten-fold.

Even barely half awake, he could tell that something was very wrong.

What Steve now truly felt wasn't actually a _grip_, it was more of a cold band of trembling fingers tightly wrapped around his heated skin as if it might leave a branded mark of its own. Eyes still closed as he fought to chase away the drug-induced vestiges of sleep, Steve grimaced in confusion when the various sounds around him gained more clarity. He was certain that his name hadn't been called again, yet Danny was certainly there. He could hear the rapid inhale and exhale of near-hyperventilation. He could literally envision the frenetic swallowing as a low gagging sound failed at being stifled inside his friend's constricted throat.

"Danny?" Steve audibly gasped as a realization dawned more urgently and his brain began to decipher the entirety of what it was sensing.

"Danny!" His eyes sprung open the moment he understood, a stunned flurry of various questions beginning and then dying on his lips as he stared up into Danny's traumatized expression. Struggling at first to sit up, Steve abandoned his attempts by thumbing the bed more upright, wincing as his body reminded him of its many bruised woes. "What? What's ... wrong?" He asked at the same time he grappled for Danny's hand, stunned anew by the cold, clammy texture.

"God, Danny ... you look awful," Steve breathed out softly as he came more fully aware.

"_I ... uh ._.. just ...they said," Danny stammered so unexpectedly badly that Steve instantly hit the nurse's call button for help. If Danny noticed, he didn't say a word about it. Instead, a myriad of mixed emotions marched across his face as he looked dumbly at the intravenous line snaking from his partner's arm and on upwards towards the bagged antibiotics. Yet his eyes eventually skittered back to Steve's face with an look of undisguised panicked terror.

"Who?" Steve prompted while struggling to make his body move through its resentful aches and pains. "Who? Those three?" Scarcely were the words hanging in the air between them, when Steve smacked himself mentally for spouting the obvious without the capacity to think when Danny's face crumbled even more.

At first, Danny could only futilely shake his head. His mouth opened and then closed with a snap as another violent wave of nausea rolled through his stomach. Eyes closed as he fought the urge to dry-heave, what he did manage to say left Steve continually confused. "I don't ... I don't _know_ ... what to do."

"Alright, I'm sorry. What did they say, Danny? Tell me what they said to you," Steve didn't need to guess what had happened as Danny clung to his arm. Another nightmare, based in very real aspects of a terrible trauma, had clearly wracked Danny's already poor ability to gain a peaceful sleep. But Steve was stunned to find his partner leaning heavily against the bed with a panicked strangle-hold latched onto his arm. Steve cleared his throat from a drug-induced thickness, struggling to get a handle on his own muddled thoughts as he tried to gently push for more information. "Can you tell me what they said, Danny? Do you remember so I can try to help?"

Still ashen at the traumatic nightmare's intensity, Danny was briefly mute as he shook his head. He'd instinctively rolled out of bed upon waking, breathing in shuddered gasps of air. He'd seen where he was and he'd recognized the hospital room, yet that knowledge scarcely had driven a dent into his ongoing stress. With his sights set on reaching Steve, his legs had managed to hold him up the short five feet it took to awkwardly lurch to the second bed where he now braced himself, shaking and unable to quiet the erratic pounding of his heart.

"Grace," Danny's eyes glittered darkly in the dim light when he managed to voice one telling word. Near black and shining in fear, his eyes directly countered his lackluster complexion as he began to stammer through an almost nonsensical explanation which proved the true extent of his ongoing shock. What he saw in his mind's eye as poorly remembered fragments of both dream and reality, merged into a dangerous whole as he tightened his hold on Steve's arm. "They ... _they want her_ ... they said ... her school ..._they know so much_ ... they promised that if I didn't talk ... she'd be next. Steve? What now ... what do I ... do? Where do I go?"

"Whoa, hey! That's not going to happen and it never did happen!" Steve blurted his surprise when Danny reversed course to pull away from him. He flailed awkwardly to get off the bed, failing completely with his legs tangled in the sheets. Steve hissed in pain when he pulled uncomfortably on his bruised ribs and took the intravenous line to its tethered limits. His compromise was to drag Danny down towards him, forcing his distraught friend to huddle awkwardly next to his side. "No, they lied Danny ... you have to know that. Gracie's safe ... she's so completely safe. What are you doing? Hey, where do you think you're trying to go?"

"I need to go ... to make sure," Danny insisted as he struggled against the hold he'd originally initiated. In a complete role reversal, Steve now clung to his forearm only winning the battle since he was too weak despite Steve's own awkward position. Danny found himself pulled back relentlessly to sit, trapped in place. He didn't want to sit though; he wanted to _leave_ and he needed so much more to know that his daughter was truly safe.

"Please," Danny whispered as he twisted in Steve's tenacious grip, his eyes continually brightly lit by uncertainty and the strong memories. "_Please_ ... I need to make sure. I ... need ... to keep her safe. They know ... too much."

Steve's eyes glistened in sympathy as his friend tried to wrench away. But the stricken expression combined with what Danny had just said, made him realize something else. Something so obvious, it was nearly embarrassing.

"Danny, do you know what day it is? Do you remember getting out of there?" Steve's brain swirled through options to calm his friend as Danny tried to regain his feet once more. He knew the answers to both were a resounding no. But the two pointed questions had only ramped up the struggle instead of helping. So regardless of the severity of the continuing tug on his ribs, Steve flung his legs off the bed in order to use both of his hands to keep Danny in place. His move was necessary, yet ill-thought out as the needle in his arm tore painfully at his skin.

"Damn it," Steve ground out as he took a quick second to disengage the intravenous line, disgusted by its ongoing annoyance to what he needed to do. _To where he needed to be._

"Commander! What ... again?" The nurse's unexpected stunned exclamation, trilled smartly through Danny and he lurched upwards with an impulsive gasp. Steve not only heard the fright, he felt it all as he reacted swiftly to grab his unsteady friend by the shoulders. In that split second of distraction, Danny had nearly made it to his feet.

"We're good," Steve breathlessly replied as he physically brought Danny back down to the mattress. He hid his pained wince and then studiously ignored her silent reprimand, which was easy enough when her worried gaze flew to Danny's stricken face. She walked forward, intent on now on him until Steve shook his head and whispered a partial apology. "Give me five minutes with him. Just five ... please ... I need the time with him."

The nurse waited a hairsbreadth before hesitantly nodding. She'd not be going far though and in many regards, Steve was quite glad of that fact as she reluctantly backed away. Alone once more, Steve re-focused on Danny and the rattled tension which was leaking from his body. His friend was at least staring at him though and Steve instantly took advantage of the limited attention even when Danny opened his mouth to object being continually restrained.

"I'm telling you that Grace is completely safe," Steve swore adamantly under his breath, flustered by his own stupidity as he firmly clung to his friend. With one hand anchored just above the bruises on his wrist and the other virtually melded to a sweat-soaked shoulder, he forced Danny to stay down. Nearly nose-to-nose while perched on the edge of the bed, Steve was desperate to make Danny listen; to make him _understand_ that the threat had been eliminated.

Permanently.

"Now listen to me. They had us for four days before ... _before_ we got out of there ...," Steve said, pausing to see if what was left unspoken had begun to sink in. It was too much to ask for though as Danny lost his short window of hazy-eyed contact and a new wave of tension shook his body. "... once we got out, I managed to contact Chin. Danny? Are you paying attention?"

"How ... how ... does that matter?" Danny whispered brokenly, frustrated by talk and his feral urge to move and act. His eyes flew around the room, lingering on the window before eventually settling on the doorway. He tried to regain his feet only to be prevented by Steve's diligent refusal to let him go. The heat from Steve's hands on his shoulder and forearm drilled heavily though his cold skin, weakening him further and ruining portions of his resolve to escape until remembered voices threatened just below the surface.

"No, no." Danny shook his head at the war between emotion and words. Supported by depths of exhaustion, the former was winning and he couldn't concentrate; couldn't _think_ of anything except Grace. "I can't ... be here. _Please_. It's Grace." He also didn't quite care to understand what Steve might be trying to say because knowing that days had elapsed only made things worse. "Steve, I need ... to go."

"No, you need to listen to me, Danny. You have to listen to me," Steve begged softly. "Grace is safely at home. I promise." However, Danny only looked towards him when he fidgeted uncomfortably. A soft whisper of a pained moan had snuck out from his lips and oddly, Danny seemed to have heard it.

There was a period of silence where Danny frowned at Steve with yet another layer of confusion marring his strained features. His gaze dropped to the now dis-engaged intravenous line and he tilted his head just slightly when he found the taped port near the crook of Steve's elbow. There was a spot of blood there. Just on the edge of the white tape and he found himself momentarily riveted to the wet gleam. Dimly, he eventually saw the pain etched across his friend's face, too. A pain that wasn't merely emotional, but also decidedly physical. Danny found himself blinking rapidly to frame better questions, but the attempt was useless. He was much too distracted - much too upset. Instead of being able to cope with what Steve was saying or the reason behind Steve's apparent injuries, Danny found himself stuck in a terrible type of rewind as dangerous threats concerning Grace echoed in his head.

"She ... can't be safe. _They_ said ... they know her _school_ ... the pictures ... they know her name," Danny shook his head in frustration because he'd written his love on the back of each photograph. _They'd_ seen the proof of it and had threatened to act in order to destroy his very reason for living. It was his fault that they knew so much about Grace. His _fault_ that they had access to his daughter and so, tears were flooding his eyes in continued disbelief.

"How ... how does anything ... matter?" Danny wheezed repeatedly as he once more lost his ability to breathe. "How?" Their promises had been dire and he simply couldn't let any of them go forgotten. The buzz in his ears increased and he closed his eyes against a blackish mind-numbing dizzy spell prompted by stress. "_How_?"

"Stop," Steve growled out angrily. Combined with the sudden surge of unexpected anger, the painful pressure that Steve put on his shoulder drew his attention back to the man's thunderous face. Nonetheless, Danny continually shook his head in denial, moaning when his trembling hand was stayed from its upwards motion towards the side of his head and the lank hair near his ear.

"Danny, stop it and listen to me," Steve demanded, the strength of his fingers turning Danny's a mottled white while his eyes hardened in warning.

"It matters because they're dead," Steve firmly noted as he moved his rigid hold from Danny's shoulder to now gently embrace his neck. The touch was a direct antithesis to the humorless look on his face and the way in which his fingers nearly crushed Danny's inside his fist. The contrast of tactile feelings made Danny pause long enough for their eyes to genuinely meet. Brusquely, Steve enunciated every single word again with a sharp clarity and unfaltering resolve. "They _are_ dead. And the Coasties picked up their miserable pieces. Completely under Chin's direction."

The skin on Danny's neck, left free of the hospital gown's thin material, was over-heated and yet oddly drenched in a cold sweat. Reluctant to free Danny's fingers with his left, Steve splayed the fingers of his right hand soothingly across the space hoping the direct physical sensation would drive what he'd just explained clearly home.

"Come on, Danny. Do you get what I'm saying?" Steve's voice softened slightly as he waited for any kind of response, tentatively offering an approving smile when another shudder ran through Danny's body from top to bottom. Danny's eyes blinked wildly just before a heavily creased squint transformed his face. Now, his expression was one solely of abject confusion as he tried to cobble together what he was being told; all of which, was certainly good enough of a start for Steve.

"Are you with me now on this? They're dead and the Coasties took care of the mess. Chin handled everything for us. It's over and done with, Danno." Repositioning his fingers and allowing his thumb to run repeatedly over the sharp ridge of Dannys clavicle, Steve nodded, mollified when there was a noticeable stunned quivering intake of air. "You're okay; Grace is fine. No one can touch her."

"Dead?" Danny mumbled as the import finally sunk into his brain. "Are ... you sure? They're ... all dead?" He closed his eyes to deeply palm the space between his eyes with his free hand. His head ached from a multitude of terrible stresses. Of course what Steve was telling him was true. How else could they be where they were at that very minute? While he now understood what Steve had done, the strong thrum of exhaustion had pushed his emotions over an inordinately high edge. Each not only rivaled the other for his action, they cruelly played together in a disjointed harmony of sorts and it was a fight for Danny to overcome his most fundamental instincts.

"Very," Steve smirked in reply to the barely mouthed questions. Though he could read the remnants of doubt, much of Danny's struggle had finally wilted away to nothing, allowing Steve the opportunity to release the restrictive hold he'd maintained on Danny's fingers. A soothing smile was further punctuated by an almost snide dangerous look which refused to lurk complacently in Steve's eyes. The point he needed to make was critically important as he regained his partner's attention. Steve would never regret his actions as Danny heaved in a strangled breath which he exhaled on something which sounded like a relieved, mangled sob.

"You're good," Steve whispered softly. He ran his left hand calmly up and down Danny's arm to comfortably land in a spot which mirrored his right. He used both hands to gently but firmly rock home what he said next. His eyes were full of a shared emotion as Danny became completely pliable under his fingertips, swaying tiredly to the motion of his steady push and pull.

"Every last one of them is _gone." _He might have softened in other ways, but Steve's tone of voice remained laced with an icy cold venom. "Trust me, Danno. They'll be damned lucky if anyone cares enough to bury them."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	11. Chapter 11

I** do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **my continued thanks to everyone and the very generous reviews!

**Chapter Eleven**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

The jolt of that remembered emotion laden, adrenalin-rush took Steve back to a place where he didn't wish to visit. He screwed his eyes shut, breathing in deeply to quiet the somewhat illogical thud of his heart and regain a semblance of better self-control. As he'd described to Danny, the threat was indeed null and void of any life. He certainly wasn't apologetic for what he'd had to do and frankly, he'd never hesitate to do it again.

"Everything's going be fine, Danno," Steve said as he repositioned his hands on Danny's shoulders, relieved by what their short conversation had accomplished, but alternately still concerned about the physical crash soon to come. As was the norm of the last few episodes, Danny had become overly quiet; seemingly in a stupor. Not so deeply buried in the back of his mind, there was a concern that Danny was exhibiting signs of another disconcerting period of microsleep. Something which disturbed Steve to witness, no end. He tightened his grip unconsciously as he closely studied the worn, haggard face for clues. Blackish circles still smudged the skin under Danny's eyes which were tightly closed as his head bobbed on an ungainly, uncooperative neck. If not for the glistening tears which stained his lashes and the residual lines of stress which pinched the slender furrows across his forehead, anyone else might have thought Danny were sleeping sitting up. Unfortunately, not only was he awake, but he was still dwelling on what he'd been told.

No matter what he'd been told, _Danny was still worried about Grace._

"We can't stay like this," Steve warned Danny as he leaned trustingly forward, almost risking a dangerous face plant to the floor, if not for how he was being literally held in place. Regardless of his friend's penchant to brood, his body was soon going to make the decision for him which would also put an end to any further thought. It wasn't necessarily a fair set of circumstances, but Danny wasn't going to have a choice in the matter.

"You need to lay down," Steve insisted when Danny didn't make an effort to move. With the utmost care to avoid the nasty warning ping he'd feel from his own healing injuries, Steve changed his position on the bed, physically guiding Danny along with him, so that they were no longer sitting on the edge of the mattress. With his back now relaxing into the raised head of the bed, Steve sighed as he allowed his own tension to leak away to remove the pressure he'd inflicted upon his sore ribs.

"Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat? Or, maybe just try to get back to sleep?" Steve whispered. He didn't expect an answer and would be hard-pressed to actually deliver if Danny ever did properly enunciate a single request – no matter how small. He only felt obligated to ask because, while Danny might have become a puddle of gangly arms and legs, he was far from relaxed based on the resentful and ever-increasing volume of disagreeable sounds reaching his ears. Steve's lips twitched in amusement since he could easily guess what it all meant as Danny's hands briefly clenched to further communicate his objection. However, it was now he who was too tired to care about where they were or how things might look once the nurse decided to return to the room to check on them.

"Danny, try to relax," Steve whispered. He wouldn't be pleased that he'd been very correct in his original musings. Just because Steve had indeed explained certain things in more detail, that explanation hadn't precisely served to curb all of Danny's anxieties. Most were gone; the important ones at least and even if his brain disagreed, his body was beginning to shut down. Utterly drained down to his very bones, Danny couldn't control his muscles even if his life had depended upon it. However, the same lack of control afflicted his thoughts and not in a very healthy manner.

Danny's eyes stayed closed as he sagged into those same resolute hands which held him up while only his over-taxed brain continued to offer an ocassional flutter of doubt. Exhaustion kept him emotional, yet he was too tired to do more than allow the tears to well up behind his lids. As Steve had wisely guessed, Danny might have appeared outwardly calm, yet he wasn't fully at peace. Lost in stray thoughts, he barely noticed when Steve shifted next to him on the bed to reposition, first himself, and then the entire upper half of his body to rest into Steve's chest. When he caught up to the magnitude of the changes, Danny lifted open his eyes to squint blearily at his surroundings.

"What'd ... you do?" Danny murmured his objections about how he was being virtually manhandled. Distracted for a moment, he frowned unhappily at the blurred sight of where he'd landed against Steve's chest and then closed his eyes again, the incoherent slurred murmur of resentment slowly lapsing into silence. In the end, he was too simply too physically numb to care and too stuck in his head to do much about it.

"You're still thinking too hard," Steve whispered just above Danny's ear. He grinned to himself as he ignored Danny's minor bout of grumbled disapproval, yet Steve lost that grin quickly when he felt the subtle tremble through Danny's thinly clad shoulder. The hitch within Danny's breathing continued to be present, too, and Steve sighed heavily. A rueful shake of his head communicating his valid guess around the ongoing disruptive ripples taking place in his friend's brain. "Let it go, Danno. You have to just let it all go and think about something else ... anything else. How about going home, huh? If you could just gain some ground, you'd be out of here in no time."

"Yeah," Danny more chuffed the sound on an exhale. He hadn't once considered leaving the hospital. The concept surprised him now and he realized how very sick he'd been and then, how purely sick he still must be. Danny gave a vague nod to acknowledge he'd heard the advice. The concern was there of course in Steve's voice, but there was a lightness to the tone which wasn't forced. Almost the soft promise of a gently teasing laugh as if Steve realized that Danny couldn't ever completely turn off his brain with such ease. Especially where it concerned his daughter. Still whatever Steve said eventually helped. A few minutes later, Danny was able to focus on the softly playing background music and Steve's ongoing calming promises, becoming more appeased as he listened to the sensible drone of reassurance.

Once Danny truly quieted, Steve took a few minutes to rock his head backwards into the pillows he'd managed to stuff behind his neck. He was admittedly tired and still not feeling entirely well as he also focused on just listening to the consistent musical sounds. He'd made his own series of mistakes and as he'd been warned, a setback or two were on his near horizon. Steve muttered under his breath to express his own feelings of self disgust as he closed his eyes when he felt Danny relax even further. He'd be soon hearing an _'I told you so'_ from his rather justified medical team. But, Steve was fairly positive that Danny would truly sleep now, until he sensed the tell-tale rigidity flitting warningly through Danny's upper body.

"Danny?" Steve softly asked, worried about the abrupt change.

"What happened?" Danny whispered. Remembering something else important, Danny had pried his eyes partially open once more. He was staring at the blurred outline of the white bandage on Steve's opposite arm. A piece of tape which was still dotted with smeared drops of blood.

"You ... what did you do?" Danny cursed his slurred, broken speech as exhaustion revisited with a vengeance. "What ... happened?"

Already suffering, the added emotional stress of the nightmare had truly given Danny a sucker-punch of an unbelievable size and he was fading quickly from the adrenalin dump. His thoughts of Grace had calmed, but then he'd thought of something else - someone else.

_Steve_.

Now, Danny thought he understood something more about what had gone down during their race to freedom. Or rather, what Steve really must have done if the three mercenaries were indeed deceased.

"When?" Steve frowned above his head, confused since he could barely see Danny's face. "I'm not following. What do you mean? What are you doing?" For a minute, the weakly voiced and poorly incomplete questions startled him in their intent until Danny chuffed out a disgusted sound as he awkwardly reached for Steve's hand.

"You got ... shot. Didn't you?" Danny managed to move just enough so he could tap Steve's arm in the direction of the port. His fingers fumbled again and then patted Steve's wrist in an off-kilter tempo to each accusatory word. "You. Got. Shot."

"Oh, that," Steve sighed in relief, eyebrows now raised in amusement as Danny's fingers slipped off his arm and he fell silent.

"It's nothing, Danno," he insisted, yet Steve could literally feel his friend fighting the need to sleep in order to prove his point or at least gain a glimmer of the full story.

"'Course not," Danny stubbornly breathed out in a resentful huff. But many things now didn't make sense, including the fact of his bedridden partner. Because if he'd only suffered from bumps and bruises, then why was Steve still very much hospitalized?

"You either ... were or ... you weren't. Were you ... shot, Steven?" Danny put as much heat into his words as he could muster. He was barely successful though when his voice decided not to cooperate.

"I may have been ... a little bit," Steve replied softly, grinning as another faintly aggrieved sound echoed up from below his chin. There was another long moment of silence as Steve felt Danny attempting to shore up the small reserves of energy needed to voice his next complaint. Steve didn't have the heart, nor truth be told, the desire to put a halt to the happy protest he could literally feel coming. So he waited, pleased to see how far Danny might be able to take his case.

"How do you get ... a little bit shot, Steven?" Danny muttered much to Steve's delight. He fought the power of his burning eyes, but they were drooping in earnest now. Wearily, Danny gave up on trying to keep them open in order to focus just on speaking as he sunk even further into Steve's shoulder. He was very tired and very cold, his body shivering uncontrollably against another which was warm. Perhaps too warm, in fact.

"Sick," Danny sighed unhappily. "Sick ... fever ... you're sick."

"It's nothing, Danno," Steve quietly objected the sudden attention. "I'm on meds."

"You said ... bumps," Danny slurred his words badly now. His voice was a washed out, pale rendition of its old self. Nonetheless, the weak rant of sorts made Steve grin as he took more of Danny's weight. "... bruises. _Bumps_, he says. How ... bad?"

"It's just a crease," Steve soothed as he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling good-naturedly, grinning widely as he got hemmed into the details of each and every basic explanation which he'd uttered. "Go to sleep, Danno. It's really okay; I'm fine." It was all so happily normal, that Steve had to bite back a chuckle. He nearly forgot how poorly he was feeling himself when Danny mumbled something inaudibly, but wholly vexed just under his breath. The next reply was a peeved snorted sound which Steve felt through his arm. A noise so weakly soft in nature, that it was hard pressed to be heard in the room. However, the intent was continually clear.

"Okay, okay," Steve chuckled, smiling as he felt the willful inhale of a studied breath of air which was a prelude to more objections. If he didn't provide more information, the antics would be hard-pressed to be stopped. "It got infected and my temperature's a bit elevated, Danny. That's why I'm here ... alright?"

"Should've been released ... by now," Danny heaved in a breath and then groused his annoyance. That fact was true enough though, and it left Steve with no valid retort. There was a lull between them, eventually punctuated by a deeper somewhat resolute sigh and yet another disagreeable nonsensical murmur of sound as Danny gave up on his objections.

" '_kay_," Danny finally whispered. He didn't know what to really think about Steve's apparent injuries. He wasn't happy, yet he felt some basic relief in that nothing was much worse. Danny was sure he'd learn more later, but at that very moment, he was blatantly exhausted. Each inhale and exhale seemed like a distinct, unique effort and he shivered uncontrollably, automatically seeking to find warmth. He lost his desire to talk or even try to mock argue, choosing instead to zone and begin to doze to a twilight state.

"Okay," Steve quickly answered, a grin firmly planted on his lips. He felt the sudden switch off though and entirely approved, rubbing Danny's free arm idly and wincing over the chilled texture of his skin. "Stop thinking ... _stop talking_ ... and go to sleep. Your as cold as ice. Your blood pressure must have tanked again."

There was a period of quietude where Danny did begin to truly sleep but he was shaken half-awake. He mumbled in confusion as he was gently maneuvered up even higher within the banks of the warmer and resilient buffer, so that his head rested nearer to Steve's shoulder. He thought he should resent that more and even object. Instead, his lips merely twitched disagreeably at being jostled, as slight as it was, because unfamiliar hands had taken his right arm. Slim, cool fingers that were deft and specific in their quest. Without needing to look, Danny knew their nurse had returned and his change of position was being orchestrated based upon some unspoken medical-related demand.

"Detective? Danny?" Danny barely heard the nurse's soft queries. His subsequent response was hardly one at all when he hummed a breathy sound before falling silent. He was malleable and uncaring as her patter continued and he sensed an occasional rumble from Steve.

"We're going to check you out here and then we're going to get you back into your own bed." Her ongoing prattle meant nothing to him as she gently continued what was almost a soliloquy. Choosing to allow Steve to manage whatever it was she was asking for, Danny closed his mind to the words and their meaning. The reverberations felt through his head answered any and all questions on his behalf, while a stronger warm hand fell down the length of his arm to relay a sense of calm. Without complaint, Danny let himself go under that watchful feeling of trust ... and safety.

"His blood pressure is low," the nurse complained to Steve. To her benefit, she hadn't said a single word about their shared position. Only Steve had seen her rather stunned expression a millisecond prior to a stupendously quick recovery, after which he'd offered no excuses.

"He should be on oxygen," she added. "I'll get some help so we can move him back to his bed; get you both comfortable and then I can check on you, too."

"No, leave him here," Steve interrupted while taking the brunt of his partner's dead weight. There was a steady rise and fall of each breath to what he could feel and Steve shook his head adamantly about any attempt for change. "He's just calmed down. He's done in ... he's sleeping ... and it's easier to move me."

Steve prayed that would remain the case as he carefully manipulated a separation from under Danny's limp upper body. With the nurse's help, Danny was quickly cushioned by pillows and wrapped under warmer blankets. Ever watchful, Steve stood hunched nearby as a nasal cannula was gently put into place and Danny was comfortably tucked into what was now going to be his new bed.

Twenty minutes later, Steve had been alternately moved to Danny's old bed. The slight damage to his arm had been cleaned and a new intravenous line had been tapped into his opposite arm. The extremely stern expression adopted by his nurse broached no room for argument. Distinct words had been shared and a gauntlet thrown down: Steve was to remain bedridden and any action to remove the line from the new bag of antibiotics would hold serious ramifications.

However, Steve needed something before he could truly get some well-earned sleep for himself. His concern had to do with something which he'd not yet had time to share with Danny. Without taking his eyes from his friend's face, Steve asked the nurse for help. "Our personal things are in those plastic hospital bags over in the closet by the door. Do you mind getting mine?"

As he'd requested, she easily found the white logo'd bag with _'McGarrett'_ written in black marker across his lap. One-handed, Steve dug through the bag to find his ruined cargo pants and the single pocket which held what he needed to further put Danny's over-active mind at ease.

Steve pulled the ruined leather wallet out from his pocket almost reverently. He opened the stained inner folds with care to take out the two mangled photographs of Grace. They were sticky and still very damp from being mistreated, but they'd have to do. And innately, Steve knew that their return would be incredibly significant to Danny, no matter their terrible condition.

"I need these left out on the side table where he can see them," Steve explained. "He'll feel better if he knows that they weren't left behind."

What Steve really meant was '_stolen_' by men so evil that they very well could have used the photographs for unspeakable reasons. Terrible reasons which his best friend had so obviously been threatened with. So yes, Danny would want them back ... he would appreciate having them in his hands where they belonged even knowing that the men were now dead. Steve smiled to himself as he studied the two photographs. Despite the water-stains and dog-earred damage, Grace was so obviously _alive_ in each one of them.

"Yeah," Steve whispered while he watched the nurse do as he asked. Distinctly pleased with himself, he shoved his shoulders down into the bed, his eyes blinking against a new burn as he gave into his own needs to rest and to heal. His last muttering was barely audible, heard only on a peaceful exhale. "Yeah. That's perfect."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	12. Chapter 12

I** do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **to the guest who hasn't been feeling well and is enjoying this story so much: Thank you and I'm glad I could help distract and make you feel a bit better! I hope things are going well!

This chapter is the original wrap up - however, ummm ... slight tweak makes it _**not**_ the end ... so, one more chapter or an epilogue will be on the way.

**Chapter Twelve**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

"A bit over seven hours," the new on-duty nurse whispered to Danny's mumbled query, a finger to her lips as she also pointed towards Steve. His friend was off to his left and oblivious to the near-silent conversation. "You really needed that stretch. Actually, it's a decent block of time for the two of you. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat or do you want to wait to see how you feel?"

Danny blinked owlishly up into her unfamiliar face, so uncertain of what to say at the startling revelation that he never heard her subsequent question. He was also confused by his new perception of where he was now situated within the hospital room. Originally, he had been farthest from the door; something done, no doubt, in order to keep him safe. An intentional positioning which had allowed Steve to be his over-protective, self-appointed shield to the outside world - and vice versa.

However, now he was closest to that realm. And where Steve had been to his right, now he was to his left and evidently sleeping soundly in a different bed.

"M'good," Danny muttered, his voice gruff from sleep and lack of use. He ran his fingers over his face, still shaky from sleep ... or maybe, not enough sleep. He simply didn't know anymore and the disorienting changes to his setting weren't helping matters. He pursed his lips just before blowing out a confused puff of air. He wasn't quite yet hungry and then didn't have anything else to say, so the nurse chose not to push him for a decision. With a promise that she'd return within the hour, she quietly made sure he was comfortable prior to leaving him to settle or wake more, or to even sleep again.

Once the nurse left, Danny rolled over to his side for a better look at Steve who was sleeping soundly in what had been his bed at one time. He remembered the critical parts of their earlier conversation and sniffed a quizzical sound in consideration of what had been orchestrated on his behalf once he'd found the wherewithal to completely relax. Danny raised an introspective eyebrow at another vague memory of where'd they'd wound up together, too. A lop-sided smile briefly twitched his lips because he was sure Steve had a hand in the decision regarding the change in sleeping arrangements. Evidently, that decision had been wise because seven and some-odd hours was indeed an impressive stretch of time for both of them to wind up sleeping so heavily. What was even more impressive was that Danny hadn't suffered from any nightmares. At least, none that he could precisely put his finger on.

So now where the nurse might have more-so meant the window of time was especially excellent for him based upon his own recovery, Danny was allowing that timeframe to sink in as it related to Steve. The man in question was on his back, yet his head was partially turned Danny's way as if wanting to listen expectantly should he be needed. In that position, Danny could easily see Steve's face and he stared for a good, long time just studying the open expression. Steve looked different when asleep; less intimidating, possibly even younger, but at that moment ... still extremely fatigued. Overall though and of utmost importance to Danny, he certainly appeared to be much less troubled and not in any pain.

During her recent visit, the nurse had also willingly told Danny that his friend was on a new battery of antibiotics to battle the infection which had time to take root the more Steve had run himself down and seen fit to cheat doctor's orders. Danny had been upset about the news. However the nurse was pleasant, optimistic even, further sharing that Steve's elevated temperature had already dropped a whole degree to hover closer to normal ranges. Yet Steve's cheeks were flushed a somewhat unhealthy shade of pink and Danny frowned as he recalled bits of their last discussion about fever and infection. Based on what he knew now, Steve should have been released from the hospital much sooner and Danny was perturbed, yet also ... oddly ... comforted.

On the down-side, that same knowledge brought the whisper of the nightmares with it. Amongst the frightening memories of shadowy aberrations, Danny heard Steve's strident voice, vowing that the men were all dead ... _gone for good_ ... unable to carry out anything they'd threatened. Round and round he went, stuck in his head, exchanging one argument for another but unable to land on solid ground.

"Damn it," Danny whispered, his stress rising as he imagined what Steve had done. Guilt for not being there for his partner, coupled with a strong sense of despair for having become a burden, engulfed his entire being. Biting back an unexpected moan which clawed at his throat, Danny slammed his eyes closed in a vain attempt to argue overwhelming emotions which were much too close to the surface. Negative feelings which were tied directly to an ongoing fatigue, leaving him continually off-balance and out-of-sorts. Worse, making him afraid to trust that his current reality was sound ... and wholly safe despite what he knew to be true.

"God ... let it be alright," he said a bit too desperately when his chest constricted with a painful twang. "Please ... _please_ let it be over."

Danny wasn't quite sure what he meant by that plea; whether he meant Grace, Steve or even himself. He palmed his forehead hard enough to hurt because he probably meant what he'd whispered for everything. He had slept soundly for the first time in many days and yet he was still morosely stuck in countless ways. He remembered what Steve had told him about the mercenaries and their end. However, he also knew what he'd been threatened with as it related to his daughter. All of that had been amplified in his mind and a volume of doubt circled back around with a hateful vengeance. Despite all of the strong reassurances and what he knew to be the truth, reconciling the two against so many mixed emotions remained an uphill battle.

He scrubbed at his face again and again, mixing tears with what felt like days worth of stubble. With a concerted effort, Danny blinked wildly to clear his vision. He fidgeted in the bed fighting an illogical desire to run away. It was a difficult task to regain enough self-control to fight that surge of fear and his eyes flitted nervously from the doorway to the window and back towards Steve ... _until he saw it._

The skin around Danny's eyes felt hot, swollen and his lids already heavy. Nonetheless, he froze for a hairs-breadth of a second, his bleary gaze riveted to the rectangular brown smudge on the side table separating him from his partner. He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing and it took him just a bit longer to force his body to work so that he could lean across the distance and fumble for his wallet. As he reached over, his fingers slipped almost immediately in stunned reaction when he spied the pictures.

Astounded by the small glossy images, Danny stared hard until he really _saw_ his old photographs of Grace. Tattered and care-worn, they were arranged side-by-side next to the ruined leather. There was little doubt that they'd been left out for him to find. They were positioned too perfectly and close enough to his bed as an obvious gesture.

_No_, what he found now was more than a simple act of kindness. This was a generous _offering_ of sorts: a talisman. The magical appearance of his wallet, along with two of his most prized possessions, were meant to be shared as a very special message and Danny gasped out loud as he pulled all three items off the table and onto his lap.

"Steve. Steve? How ... _what_ ... what did you do this time?" Danny whispered his awe into the air as he left the wallet abandoned on the blanket and held the two pictures in his hands. His eyes locked on each one to study the all too familiar images of his daughter. He didn't even see their damage at that point. He only saw Grace's innocent smile and with that, Danny not only understood what Steve had done for him, but also what he continued to do time and again.

A new spate of tears stung Danny's eyes; not for Grace and certainly not for himself. Nor for the fear of old threats and vile promises. As his hands fell to his chest, the two photographs cradled safely between shaking fingers and his heart, Danny's incredulous gaze fell once more on Steve's face.

Except this time, their eyes met.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	13. Chapter 13

I** do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **warning ... warning! off the grid we go ... I give up. This was SUPPOSED TO BE a single creative writing "dump" and "post". Trusting the bad muse anyway to go with the flow ... darn it. So maybe my experiment with myself is not an entire failure ... grrr. It's a bit of smarmy chapter ... so be it!

**Chapter Thirteen**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Without moving a single muscle, he silently watched Danny drop the wallet in favor of the two photographs. In actuality, the wallet more slipped from his fingers to land on his lap and tumble forgotten to the side, sliding down the blanket to rest near his hip. Steve watched it fall, but then his eyes darted back up to study Danny's face. He dared to smile for the mix of emotions he read: disbelief, shock, followed by a great deal of pure unadulterated relief.

He watched as Danny's fingers crumpled to his chest, the pictures held between trembling fingers and tears beginning to spill over his eyes. Steve swallowed hard, his own emotions on a rise as his lips toyed with a half-smile and his vision dimmed with a misty-eyed haze. He hadn't thought much beyond the act of retrieving Danny's personal belongings when he'd found them. He, himself, had been outraged by what he'd guessed had happened; mostly then, he'd moved on. _Mostly_. An active imagination had helped him accurately guess the volume of threats and what that had done to further unravel his friend. Then on a base level, there was the simple travesty done by using Grace's pictures - _using a child_. That unto itself was an insult to father and daughter, yet Steve still hadn't thought about what might come after.

He hadn't thought that far in advance, certainly not that deeply beyond the fact that his friend's personal things had been taken from him … used as a threat and abused as if worthless … stolen and entirely disrespected. Beyond his own surge of outrage, Steve had only sensed that the wallet would be an afterthought and that more than anything, Danny would appreciate having the pictures of his daughter returned. Revealing them in the hospital had merely been an effort to offer another line of comfort if he'd overslept and missed Danny by some perverse accident, however Steve hadn't anticipated the true depths of his gesture. He hadn't considered how exaggerated the man's reaction might be when driven by a still tenuous recovering state. As tears continually welled in Danny's eyes and he began to physically vibrate, he wondered if he'd been ignorant, acting too soon without properly thinking things through.

"Hey, hey, hey," Steve said, automatically moving and whipping blankets to the side in order to swing his legs off the side of the bed. Even though Danny often wore his emotions on his sleeve, for the first time he could recall, he wasn't sure how to read the newest look on his friend's face. He only sensed the frenetic energy which was more than worrisome due to Danny's relatively unstable condition. "Where's your head at?"

"My … head?" Danny coughed the question out through a throat nearly closed by a surge of emotion. He coughed more, eyes sparkling brightly through tears, any words which he might have said shattered by a sharp laugh which simultaneously stole his breath. He knew that he was being foolish and couldn't help himself. He could guess how he looked, too, as exhaustion spurred on the tide of feelings - none of which he could control.

"Sorry," Danny murmured, trembling in earnest while tears rolled unheeded down his cheeks. "I know ... I'm sorry." Strung as tightly as a bow because he simply couldn't be any other way, he cradled Grace's photographs to his chest and stared at his best friend.

"Danny?" The one hand holding the pictures was shaking so badly, Steve feared the delicate paper would rip even more. "What are you sorry for? What's wrong?" He rocked forward to stand, wincing at the twinge of pain when still sore abdominal muscles engaged and his hunched position impinged on bruised ribs.

"No. Don't you … _dare_ … move," Danny stated adamantly, barely finding his voice as he shook his head to forestall the forward motion, one hand raised high as if he could make Steve remain bedridden by the simple gesture. "Sit! Don't … you dare… get out of that bed!" He demanded to be heard and heeded, no matter how his voice sounded so unconvincingly weak. Once Steve hesitated, only then did Danny work his own way to a seated position before awkwardly clawing himself upright to stand.

"What are you doing?" To his credit, Steve actually listened to the hoarsely voiced orders and stayed where he was, though he was admittedly surprised when Danny managed to get out of bed. He froze in place, feet on the floor with his lower body braced against the mattress, worriedly watching as Danny tried to gain his balance and equilibrium. "Danny? What do you think you're trying to do … because you sure as hell aren't going anywhere."

"No," Danny breathed out in a confusing tone, his voice fading on the last syllable which made Steve frown in disapproval. "_M'_not. Neither are you, except maybe home. Soon."

He realized then that he did want to get out of the hospital. It was time and he glanced briefly towards the natural light of the window. Danny couldn't remember when he'd been outside last. Before the bunker, certainly. Sometime well before he and Steve had been abducted. But Danny couldn't remember the time or place and he literally reeled in place, registering Steve's hiss of concern.

"Yeah, soon," Danny whispered. "We need ... _need_ to get out of here." He blinked to bring himself back from the dismal memory of dark filthy rooms. But now he felt trapped again by overly clean, sterile ones.

"Soon," he repeated, his voice more determined as he turned back towards to Steve. "If you're okay ... when you can ... but, _soon_." He tried to smile to help say that he wasn't planning on going anywhere that very moment. He wouldn't leave without his partner in tow. But the gesture of a smile failed because his eyes were glittering oddly in his wan face. He shrugged at the failure and tried again, but only a sharp giggle seized his chest and Steve scowled at the odd behavior, now getting to his feet.

"Danny," Steve began softly. "Please ... I don't understand ... tell me what's wrong. If it's the pictures ... I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's so not the pictures and ... but it is ... and, well, I'm ... fine. I am," Danny whispered as he edged forward in Steve's direction, stopping just shy of the man's seeking fingers. The pictures remained trapped in his left hand, held tightly to his chest while his right hand flapped weakly in the air before falling silent to his side. A brief flare of guilt made him waver in place and Danny shook his head at his private thoughts. He'd been such a burden and he still was, as time and again, Steve buffered the world for him and set things right.

"I'm sorry," Danny muttered, his mind in a turmoil. He wavered in place, his face red and puffy, his flushed cheeks alternating between shades of crimson and a sickly pasty white. "Nothing's wrong," he chuffed softly when Steve lifted his arms wide in disbelief, his eyes reeking of worry now. "You ... _you_ ... how?" He was unable to help himself stop the wild mix of emotions or find the right words to say. Struggling to gain control, Danny nearly lost his balance, his right hand flying out to coil itself in Steve's blue hospital gown for balance.

"Danno," Steve glanced towards the corridor and then to where the remote was on the table for the nurse's call button as he grappled with Danny's hand. If he moved, he'd need to release him and the man was much too unsteady on his feet. So instead he fumbled for Danny's fingers, pulling him gently forward to improve his own stance and hopefully get his friend safely seated. "Sit down ... just ... please, sit down and tell me what's wrong."

"Sorry," Danny said, shaking his head repeatedly to correct his friend, a teary-eyed half-smile on his lips as Steve trapped his shaking fingers in place to force him to stumble across the short distance. He tried to apologize for his behavior, for not being there for his partner - for not having Steve's own back. So he tried to reassure him at the same time. But what he was conveying was poor at best and he was only managing to make Steve even more concerned. "Sorry ... nothing's ... wrong. Everything's ... so _right_."

"Danno, you're not making sense," Steve breathed out worriedly. "But you _are_ going to fall." He felt Danny bury his fingers in the thin material of his blue hospital gown and he released the hold he had on Danny's hand in order to grasp both his upper arms as he dangerously bobbled in place.

"I ... _know_. Sorry," Danny muttered repeatedly as he stared up at Steve, his eyes were burning in his head. A wave of fatigue swept through him and he tried to breathe in what should have been a settling breath. Instead, he coughed as his throat seized and apologized again. "I'm so ... sorry. Really ... sorry, Steve."

He blinked tiredly, seeing not only the confused expression, yet also the doubt and concern skyrocketing across Steve's face. If he could just _sleep_, he would heal. If he could just _sleep_ long enough to cure his body and mind, he wouldn't look or sound so very much unlike himself.

"Stop apologizing," Steve said, his thumbs driving meaningfully into Danny's arms. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for. I'm the one who's sorry about leaving these out for you to see. I only wanted to help; I didn't think and I'm sorry, Danno. You're upset ... I didn't think you'd be so damned ... _upset_."

"No, no," Danny interrupted, shaking his head to negate the ever-increasing worries. Steve had helped so much more than he could have guessed. It was only his fault now for being so god-awful incapable at explaining himself clearly. "Tell me ... how?" He smiled shakily when Steve only scowled more deeply, the strong grip tightening more firmly to ensure he didn't fall. He pushed for an answer because he was having difficulty getting his thoughts together; too much trouble merely stating that he wanted Steve to rest now because he'd done so very much. _Too much_, in fact, and Danny was at a loss on how to best convey his thanks because nothing would ever be good enough.

"How?" He fumbled with the pictures he held protectively, fighting his numb fingers so that he wouldn't drop them. With his right hand desperately clutching the gown, his left pressed the pictures firmly to Steve's chest as if they might help prove his point. "How ... did you do this?"

"I found your wallet and the pictures when I went back to the bunker for supplies," Steve's eyes were black pools as the placement of the pictures against his chest seemed to burn a hole through to his very skin. He was beyond concerned as he fought to read his partner's face and decipher the confusing, stilted conversation. "I had to leave you to do it. I needed to get that sat phone, though. While I was there, I found your wallet ... and then, the pictures."

The glimmer of a more appeased smile teased Danny's lips and Steve relaxed slightly. With that response, he didn't need to be prompted anymore for what his friend needed to really know. "They're yours, Danny ... you should have them." He didn't know what else to say except for the simple truth. He shifted one hand to cover the cold, trembling fingers which held the pictures to his chest.

"The wallet's ruined. But the pictures - I'm sorry that I didn't try to dry them out. There hasn't been much time, but maybe we still can. Or you know, maybe you can get reprints made if that's easier," Steve added quietly.

"Thank you," Danny whispered with as much sincerity as he could draw forth. Steve was truly distressed and still unsure if he might be reading him the wrong way. In truth, Danny was relieved, incredibly happy and apologetic for his own continued failings. Yet all he could do in that next moment was unfurl the fist he'd buried in the gown to reassuringly tap Steve's chest. He mentally cursed his fluctuating emotions, knowing that he was at the mercy of his still ridiculously exhausted body. "They're fine ... just the way they are. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Steve replied, at a loss of what more to say or do even though nothing beyond the obvious seemed necessary. Nonetheless, his brow remained thickly furrowed as he focused tightly on Danny's face to be sure. "I knew you'd want them back. Are you sure you're okay, though?"

"Very," Danny whispered. He sniffed resentfully to himself, needing to bite his lip to prevent another apology from bursting forth from his mouth. "But ... I want to get out of here. If ... when you can."

Instead of talking more and for a very a long moment, they stood there together in silence; Danny eventually bowing his head to rest into the hand he'd tangled firmly back within Steve's hospital gown. Despite his recent impressive length of sleep, he was tired and cold from emotions that waxed and waned at their own whim. Under his fingers though, he felt the pictures which remained trapped between them both and he smiled again with a new thought. A new _want_.

"I need to see her," he softly said, shifting slightly in an attempt to relieve Steve from some of his weight. Instead, Steve tightened his grip and Danny almost laughed as a tired tear escaped down his cheek.

"Grace is fine. I promise," Steve answered from somewhere over his head. He felt Danny nod in agreement, but he continually sensed the ongoing disquiet and tried to fill in a few more gaps, knowing that his friend once more had either forgotten a few critical points or might not have had the wherewithal yet to consider them. "The trial's tomorrow already and then the lockdown's over; our role is done. Chin and Kono will be off the detail and maybe we can both get out of here. Go home, so you can see Gracie. Get back on track, Danny. You're so close."

"When you can," Danny murmured his caveat to ensure Steve's own health. "Only then." Overall though, his cascading thoughts were finally calming and he smiled more genuinely, his tear-stained face hidden from view. The simplicity of having his wallet and the two old photographs in hand had become an astronomically large trigger for him. But he wanted out now. Knowing that he'd gain ground faster away from the hospital and needing to see his daughter, he wanted to escape the confines of the white, stark walls they'd only exchanged from a darker prison.

"Agreed," Steve concurred softly, feeling the trembling fingers tighten in earnest on the blue material. As he sensed in Danny, he was also feeling claustrophobic and itchy to move on and heal. They were both nearing points where'd they be far better off on their own ... setting their worlds right ... together. If his partner needed to focus on sleeping and eating, Steve only needed to prove he'd beaten the worst of his infection. He could do that. _They_ could do that for each other.

"I'm good, Danno," he repeated. He sighed softly as he moved one of his hands to cover Danny's - the same which continually held the photographs trapped to his chest. "I'll talk to the doctors ... we'll make arrangements to go home."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	14. Chapter 14

I** do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **since I'm obviously only "fingers" for the annoying muse, I have zero comments at this time. Chapter slightly revised this evening to fix typos.

**Chapter Fourteen**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Curled on his left side, Danny sank deeply into the cushioned lounge chair on Steve's sunny lanai. Unable to get warm and simultaneously anxious for fresh air, he had entered through the front door and simply kept on going out the back with only that one goal in mind. He didn't say a word to Steve, knowing that he'd be directly on his heels. He'd be worried ... confused possibly by Danny's choice ... yet, he'd understand once he saw and likely join him as soon as he made sure that Danny wasn't going anywhere. So even though Danny's eyes were already closing as the first rays of the strong sun soaked through his short-sleeved t-shirt, seconds later, he sensed Steve's presence standing over him.

"Lift your head up," Steve said. A calloused hand helped slide a pillow, no doubt swiped from the sofa, between hair and cushion. "Try to get some sleep." Danny hummed a nonsensical sound deep in his throat, completely missing the way his friend outwardly cringed at the disturbing noise.

Danny didn't respond as that same hand brushed caringly across his shoulder, not so subtly checking the clammy texture of his skin and measuring the muscular vibration brought on by the stressful trip home from the hospital. Their release had been approved a full day after Steve's initial query prompted by Danny's plea. _A full day after_ Danny had proven he could achieve another duration of REM sleep, as well as manage to willingly eat. It also marked a satisfactory length of time where Steve's blood tests had finally validated that all infection had been pushed from his system.

But that morning before getting his walking papers, Danny had run the full gamut of emotions. By the time he'd been situated in the obligatory wheelchair for departure, he was beyond frustrated and bordering on angry as his body rebelled with the slightest of activities or stresses. His mind was equally challenged by its tiredness. He was unable to fully focus on many things, which only brought his frustration to newer highs. But instead of the familiar complaining, he folded in upon himself to become more quiet and withdrawn.

"_This is stupid,"_ Danny had breathed out in rare complaint. He had been staring at the trembling fingers of his left hand as he fought the nausea brought on by the car ride home. "_It's just sleep … I just lost a little bit of time. But Steve ... I can't do this alone ... I just can't." _The two of them were in the back seat of the HPD cruiser, riding side by side. But where Steve was sitting sideways facing his partner, Danny was wedged miserably into the passenger side corner.

Before answering, Steve had glanced at their too young driver, briefly wondering when their eyes met in the rearview mirror, if the kid was really old enough to have graduated from the Academy. He had bitten his lip while studying the officer's level of interest, his jaw hardening as he soothingly rubbed Danny's left shoulder; that one look Steve finally had shared with their driver had been threatening in its intensity. It had been more than enough to dissuade the young man from daring to eavesdrop. Then he had waited even longer to speak again until the dark brown eyes had nervously rediscovered the road.

"_No. What was done to you is very serious,_" he'd then gently argued back. Steve's voice remained low and calm, but the anger showed in his eyes. _"As for alone, that's not something you need to worry about. Ever. I told you time and again, Danny, I'm not going to let you even try to go this by yourself. I'm not going anywhere."_

What he'd wanted to say was ten times more severe and Steve had battled with himself not to voice how close they'd all come to losing Danny. The plain truth was that his comments weren't for mixed company, plus they certainly weren't something which Danny needed to hear. Besides, Steve knew that his friend easily understood the gravity of what had been done to him: he was living it second, by each excruciatingly long, second.

Steve had kept up with his supportive tactile connection for their entire journey home. His whispers had been consistently reassuring and entirely earnest. "_I know you're sick of feeling the way you do. You're more than sick and tired of hearing all this advice ... not to mention dealing with doctor's orders. But none of this is a joke. It's all very real, Danny. You can only take each day as it comes."_

"_Stupid_," Danny had sighed in one final weak attempt to be contrary. After, he had seemingly zoned out to an abnormally quiet place. His head had rocked in time to the car's motion and he'd occasionally winced. A steady thrumming of the rear wheel had drilled into his right ear which had been both mindlessly soothing and irritating in its constancy, but he hadn't had the physical strength to move. The one time he'd tried to subconsciously wend his fingers into his hair, as if to communicate his stress, Steve had hushed a warning and intercepted his hand with a firm determination.

So the trip home had been upsetting for one man, but desperately hard for the other. Danny in particular had significant trouble adapting to the shared ride in the HPD cruiser; a necessity done for them by the department since their covert mission had gone unexpectedly sideways.

The issue prompting their official need for escort had to do with the tenacity of the hoodlum who was still pulling strings from behind bars. While the intel said that things were relatively under control after an odd attempt at the venue, both Chin and Kono were now delayed on their return. The FBI had instructed the Honolulu Police Department to provide the two recovering men with additional protection as well ... _just in case_. Making matters worse, there would be no clandestine visit with Grace until things truly died down.

Again,_ just in case_. But the mere chance had instantly frightened Danny. That and then something else based upon one subjective look in a mirror which had proved what he looked like - Danny looked precisely the way he felt - _sick_. And sick wasn't good enough for Grace. He wanted to be better. He wanted the pale skin gone, the black, sunken eyes and the heavily lined creases removed from his face. Danny wanted to look, act, and be _normal_.

Depressed and huddled near the rear corner of the four-door police car, Danny had found the traffic too much to contend with and the vehicle's movement, overwhelming. The last meal he'd managed to eat in the hospital - a necessary caveat to his release that late afternoon - roiled uncomfortably in his stomach and he was drenched in sweat by the time the young officer had pulled into Steve's drive.

"How are you doing?" Steve asked. He'd followed his friend quickly after providing a few orders and ultimatums to the boy-officer. Now thumbing a bead of sweat from his forehead as Danny literally melded with the lounge chair, Steve heaved in a shuddered breath as he stared back down at him. He shook his head in wonder before looking blindly out at the brilliant blue of the Pacific. Only offset by a comfortable shore breeze and the lateness of the hour, the sun was still quite strong. His eyes narrowed when Danny shivered though and in reaction, Steve knelt down to take his wrist.

"Don't worry ... just tired ... cold," Danny murmured breathlessly through Steve's displeased retort. "I can't get warm enough ... and the sun feels good." He paused, shoving his eyes open to ask his next question. He blinked painfully from the brightness of the sun, his eyes tearing in reaction. The effect was unsettling and Steve had to hide his wince as Danny's already ashen pallor seemed to worsen. "You're staying out here, too? Right?"

Steve nodded, a reassuring smile reaching his eyes to further calm his friend. There was no doubt between them that leaving the hospital was a good move. However, another chink in the old armor had been removed since Danny, for one, didn't want to be left alone.

"Sure, but do me a favor and slow down your breathing," Steve coached softly. "You're nauseous?" As confirmed by his fingers, the exposed skin was sticky cool and a look at Danny's face was disconcerting based on a few noticeable convulsive swallows. There was barely a nod, but the attempt to obey in controlling each inhale and exhale was obvious. The rapid thud under his fingers eventually eased to something more acceptable, as did the sporadic muscular tremble.

"Where are you going?" Danny suddenly asked. "I thought you were staying out here?" His eyes had drooped to half mast, but sensing a change as Steve released his wrist and shifted on his heels, they instantly widened in alarm.

"I'm going in to change and get us something to drink," Steve replied. "Just water for now." Only then did he carefully struggle to his feet, one hand wrapped protectively around his middle. He was still worried despite the strides his partner had made over the last many hours. Their mission and its impact on seeing Grace was one very major thing to contend with. Nonetheless, not once had Danny objected to their co-habitation at one of their homes. He was uncharacteristically quiet, he hadn't argued against using Steve's house, nor offered a single negative comment after the decision had been rendered. To Steve, all these indicators, coupled with his last question, added up to one core thing: it was more than apparent than ever that Danny was still far from being well. But now, ensconced outside and virtually basking in the sun with the sound of the ocean just barely within earshot while acquiescing to having his vitals manually checked, Steve didn't know what to make of it.

"Okay. Water's good," Danny murmured softly. He peered up, cocking his head to the right in order to find a spot of shade to better see Steve's face. "You feel okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, buddy. Do you want me to find something else for you to wear though?" Steve asked. Other than old t-shirts, they were dressed identically in surgical scrubs gracefully borrowed from the hospital.

"No." Danny idly thumbed the blue material loaned before faking a small smile. He shrugged, his decision not to move apparent before he even opened his mouth. "Not changing. Thanks."

Still staring worriedly, Steve lost his smile. He sobered, his face falling into a pensive frown. Yet, he forced himself to relax when Danny's eyes slid shut again. The answer was really very simple and he was reading more into the '_un-Danny-like behavior' _than necessary because getting out of the hospital's setting was a wise choice.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

_"I know you," the leader had smirked. "I know you like I know myself. You need a different brand of motivation."_

_Steve's eyes had narrowed in warning, but he'd held his tongue just as he'd been doing all along. He'd studied his captors closely from the heavy ladder-backed chair he'd been firmly zip-tied to. Barring what he pegged as some sort of ad hoc military experience, he was nothing like them. Bruises dotted his face and chest from repeated beatings. His ribs ached from a methodical delivery of the same which had been so vicious, the chair had creaked and groaned at the strain._

_But of course he'd taken it all in stride. It was his mission after all and Steve had faith that his team would put an end to the situation – no matter the timing. However, the beatings and threats had recently ceased and Steve sensed a dangerous coming in the air. The men had grown nonchalant towards him and almost condescending in lieu of another distraction. _

_"What's going on?" Steve had dared ask, his heart lurching when their leader's facial expression changed to something much more sinister. Something more telling and Steve had to fight to control his reaction. They had … someone … someone nearly as important as that of their own terrible mission and Steve felt the truth through to his bones before the evidence was thrust into the room._

_"I see you know already or at least ... guess," the man had toyed with his gun, teasing the handle where it lay snugged tightly within the top of his black jeans. Steve glanced to it as if judging his options. But his attention had been drawn back to the doorway as the leader laughed out loud and a rush of hectic activity was sensed from the dim corridor._

_"Oh, you'll like this, Commander!" He had turned with a rapidity towards the doorway with a grand flourish as if ushering in someone of utmost importance._

_Only then had Steve begun to lose the coolness of his usual rock-hard demeanor._

_"Danny?" Steve had muttered, all the time tightening his fists until his fingers hurt. "Shit. Danny!" The chair had resented his reactive struggle and yet he'd gained no ground, only bruising his wrists more as he heaved in a startled breath of air._

_Heavily bound and gagged, his roughed-up partner was presented to him as if a special gift. Their eyes had met and Danny had managed to express as much shock and utter dismay as Steve had been able to voice in the simple utterance of his name. Seconds later, he'd been torn from the room and the leader of the small band of mercenaries had casually approached Steve's trapped body._

_"You see," the leader had crowed his success softly as he bent over at the waist, his hands pleasantly interlocked behind his back, now inches from Steve's face. "I do know you … you will talk because, while you don't necessarily care about yourself, you do care about a close member of your team. Isn't that right, Commander?"_

On his lanai as the sun began to set, Steve moaned fitfully in his sleep. He'd gone into the house to change and bring out a carafe of ice water as he'd reassured Danny, pleased to find his friend truly sleeping in the sun. He'd then gotten comfortable on a neighboring chair, gazing placidly at the ocean until he'd given in to his own exhaustion. He was dreaming though. Perhaps it was due to the perceived safety of his own home which allowed him to let down both his mental and physical guards. With his best friend under his nose, too, Steve had allowed himself to relax … becoming fully vulnerable to the games his own mind might choose to play. He moaned again, his dream worsening in its warped message as it fell into a repetitive replay of when he'd been able to see Danny for that second time.

_"What did you do to him?" Steve had ground out, his fury palpable as their captors had literally dragged his partner through the door. Hours had elapsed, possibly even days and Steve had tried various ways of finding out about Danny without giving up the secrets of their mission. All of his best attempts had been for nothing though. _

_Completely free of any bindings as he was made to stand in front of Steve, Danny had been lost in another world, moaning and making no effort to escape. Steve had watched as the leader lovingly tapped Danny's cheek, his partner flinching away so badly that he'd lurched sideways into one of the man's underlings. _

_"What did you give him? Tell me what you've done!" Steve had hissed, his anger warring with a newfound trickle of fear. His mind had whirled through any variety of drugs which might have been pushed into Danny's system; yet that was soon proven to be a fallacy._

_"I can understand your thinking. But, this ... No, we had a different kind of fun with your boy here," the leader had drawled. _

_"Someone like you … with your training … not so much in the fun department … but this one, he's entertaining. He fought hard and has quite the temper, I might add."_

_"What the hell did you do to him!" Steve had cursed under his breath as the mercenary laughed, all the time waiting for Steve's reaction as they all watched the detective reel on his feet. He knew it wasn't drugs then; it was something worse and Steve had found himself dumbstruck by the realization; because other than deep bruising on his wrists and the terrible body-wide muscular tremble, there wasn't a single mark on what he could see of his partner's body. _

_"Stay awake," the man which Danny had fallen into had purred the warning out with a knowing look aimed directly at the trapped Commander. With an arrogant air, he'd rudely righted the ailing detective before shoving him a few steps back into position. "Stay on your feet."_

_"Can't," Danny had moaned, near tears, his knees buckling severely until two men had stepped forward to yank him upwards. "Please … can't."_

_"Danny!" Steve had pulled vainly at his arms as that particular realization was wholly confirmed. "What the hell did you do … what is this? Why?" _

_His worried eyes had met those of the mercenary in charge and the man had the gall to nod and laugh. He'd managed to undo the stalwart Commander through one of his own and Steve simply couldn't hide his shock … and growing state of fear. The man did know his weakness after all and yet, there was nothing for Steve to really do._

_"You know why," the man had replied. "So tell me now ... does what you see change your mind?"_

_"Hey!" Unable to immediately answer, Steve had inwardly cringed as the leader suddenly scowled at his partner before literally screaming at him. "Hey, Detective!"_

_Seconds later, a loud slap filled the air as the palm of his hand connected with the side of Danny's head right over his ear. "Wake up!" He snarled viciously, nearly spitting in anger when Danny stumbled in place between his men. _

_"That's enough - you proved your point! Leave him alone!" Steve had shouted when a second, third and fourth slap followed in quick succession; each time landing in the precise same place above Danny's ear. "Get away from him!" Stunned anew, Danny had been left gasping and choking at the repetitive blows, unable to do more than weakly duck away with no hopes of escape. His skin had been covered in a sheen of cold sweat and he had been shaking so hard, that Steve was sure he'd keel over before his very eyes._

_"Get him out of here," the leader had demanded. "String him up and don't let him sleep … that is, until I get what I want." He'd turned towards Steve then, a dire silence settling between them until his men had returned from their task with Danny. Steve had been fighting his restraints and rending his wrists repeatedly as he challenged the men in kind. His promise to kill them had been unspoken and yet, they hadn't feared him. _

_Not quite yet. But that cockiness was soon to be their downfall._

_"How much more do you think he can take, Commander?" As before, the leader had bent forward at the waist to leer directly into Steve's face. Inches away from each other, they'd been virtually eye to eye. Steve knew the answer to that question and he couldn't hide the spastic swallow as the mercenary came in closer still. Without looking down, Steve knew the grip to the gun was millimeters from his fingers. But the man's nose was easily within striking distance of his head. _

_"Where's my man? Where's the damned safe house?" _

"Danny." In his sleep, Steve moaned louder as the remembered sound of skull hitting soft, cartilage echoed in his head at the same time a resounding crack indicated the splintering of weakened wood.

"_Steve? Steven?"_ In his dream, he heard Dannys voice calling out to him. Pleading for help; shouting for ... _Grace_.

"No," Steve nearly sobbed, as time and again, he tried to break free in the neverending nightmare ... and failed. Still bound in front of the mercenaries, he struggled through the veil of blood which covered his vision while his left hand darted forward seeking to gain the leader's weapon. But in his dream, the crimson stain of blood expanded and no one stayed down ... he failed at breaking free. This time, his hand never connected with the butt of the gun.

"Too late," Steve whispered in a frightened voice. "Too late … _Danny_!" His head tossed on the lounge chair, the supine activity making the chair creak and groan with an all too familiar noise.

_He couldn't break free. _

_He couldn't move at all as the mercenary's leering face lurked closer. Now covered in blood and grotesque in its mask-like horror, Steve almost shrank back from what he saw._ In the worsening fallout of the dream as his mind played tricks, Steve failed to escape and Danny … _died_.

"Danny!" Stuck in the nightmare, Steve called out more loudly. He'd become frantic enough now for Danny to rouse from sleep, entirely baffled and out of sorts until he heard his name choked out in a hoarsely strained tone. "Danny! Stop! No! He … can't!"

It took less than a minute for Danny to react to the sound of his friend's voice which had risen in its frenetic timbre.

"Steve?" Danny said, as he stumbled awkwardly to his feet, his body not quite in synch with gravity. He fell more than walked towards Steve in his haste, his brain kicking in even if his body had yet to join the land of the living.

"Steve? Steven?" He managed to say in a voice still painfully drowsy from sleep. When there was no intelligible answer though, Danny blinked lazily, before sitting on the side of the lounge chair where his friend remained trapped within the weird throes of a nightmare. Not entirely thinking, Danny placed his right hand on Steve's jerking knee, all the while calling his name in an attempt to pull him awake.

"Steve? Hey, wake up," Danny said more loudly. "I'm right here … Steve? Everything's okay."

He should have tried to seriously consider what he was doing a bit longer because Steve's waking reaction was utterly unexpected … unless of course, one might be _thinking_ about the individual in question. If Danny might have been wise enough - aware enough - to consider the many facets of a slumbering SEAL, what happened next never would have been the case. But Danny was out of sorts and completely off his usual game.

With only a startled gasp escaping from his mouth, he found himself suddenly pre-empted from his perch on the side of the chair by one of Steve's legs. Unable to gain his feet, Danny stumbled sideways and pitched forward. Completely off-balance, he fell hard to his hands and knees, only managing to evade the first of two wild punches thrown in his direction.

"Shit," Danny cursed as the second fist found the bony rise of his clavicle, just below the arch to the side of his neck. The force of the blow was close enough to his windpipe to make the breath catch in his throat. It was enough to keep him down while pebbles from the lanai dug into his knees and scoured the sensitive skin of his palms. He hissed sickly from a wave of dizzying vertigo, ready for the worst in his unprotected state as a murky shadow, made more eerie by the setting sun, loomed high above his head. Danny couldn't hide the flinch when Steve's hands grasped his forearms first and then an iron-strong arm wound around his waist to heave him back to his feet. He closed his eyes as he staggered again, needing to rely on Steve's strength as another disorienting flood of blackish sparkles stole his sense of equilibrium.

Spun around on his feet without the ability to stop the inevitable, Danny nearly fell from the rapidity of the motion. He weakly plucked at Steve's arms as he waited for it to happen then: what would be an anticipated outcome of trying to wake a well-trained military man from a vicious nightmare.

"Steve?" Danny mouthed his friend's name around a throat gone dry. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, and he didn't dare now as the SEAL's hands tightened once more about his biceps. He didn't want to see what was coming based on his own stupidity.

"Did I hurt you?" The unexpected question was full of an undefined terror leaving Danny barely able to cough out a relieved laugh. "My god, Danno. Did I hurt you just now?"

Incapable of speaking for the reality of the close call, Danny merely shook his head in answer. Stunned to his very core, he still didn't open his eyes until he was enveloped in Steve's arms, the man literally draping his upper body over his smaller frame while holding him up simultaneously.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispered, a choked sob barely kept at bay as he pulled Danny tightly into his chest. His voice ebbed and flowed as the strong terrifying memories of failure threatened much too closely. "I had a dream … I couldn't wake up … I thought … I _thought_ you were … _them_. I _thought_ ... you ...never mind."

"You're sorry," Danny almost laughed again at the ridiculousness of their situation as he found the energy to gently tap and then hug Steve back, both arms shakily encircling Steve's waist until his fingers touched. "I should have known better; I wasn't thinking." Slick with sweat, he couldn't quite hold on and his hands wound up dropping weakly before he was able to at least raise them to hang onto Steve's arms.

"You had a helluva nightmare," Danny mumbled, correcting the semantics. Still trapped in Steve's hug, he was as loathe to move as Steve was to let him go. His voice was partially muffled as he talked virtually into Steve's arm. "You were calling me … are you all right? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Steve finally breathed out to the latter question. He was shaking from the adrenalin dump as he guided Danny to sit on the lounge chair. His own knees were weak and Steve found himself sinking down to sit next to his friend. Side by side; knee to knee, Steve leaned forward, anxious to guarantee he'd not touched a hair on his partner's head despite Danny's attempt to soothe him.

"Steve, calm down. I'm fine … except for my dignity," Danny weakly smiled as he attempted to hide the way his hands were trembling by folding them together in his lap. But Steve had seen the red mark peeking out from the corner of the t-shirt's thin neck and he narrowed his eyes in self-reproach.

"Like hell," Steve ground out as he purposefully pulled the material aside to see the extent of the damage for himself. "I could have killed you." Three more inches and a better angle would have crushed or at least badly injured Danny's larynx and Steve shuddered at the thought.

"Well, you didn't," Danny tried to breezily brush off the concern, but he too failed when Steve glared almost angrily at him. He bit his lip, considering the stormy, worried look now gracing Steve's face. His friend was tense and on edge; completely unwilling to let what had nearly happened go.

"I'm fine. _We_ are fine." Danny found himself shrugging, a hand placed pleadingly on Steve's jumpy knee. "If you don't want to talk about the nightmare, how about an ice pack at least?"

"Daniel. An ice pack?" Steve tried to ask for forgiveness, but Danny was already shaking his head. He soothingly squeezed Steve's knee as he gently rocked into his side.

"I don't want to talk about it," he dared Steve to jump at the declaration. "I don't want to talk about this just like you don't want to discuss that nightmare."

"Danno."

"No." Danny smiled as Steve's fingers carefully ghosted the outline of the angry bruise on his neck. His eyes were still black from their internal storm, but there was the promise of a slowly pending calm. "Just ... get me an ice pack."

**_\- to be continued-_**


	15. Chapter 15

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **not a single note this time, but lots of THANKS to all you wonderful readers! Wishes for a special Memorial Weekend to all the USA'ers. Let's not forget what this day is really all about.

any mistakes below are entirely my own - if you see something, please let me know so I can correct it!

**Chapter Fifteen**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Danny's mental cry of anguish sounded at the cusp of a mysterious feeling of overwhelming dread. The depth of the nightmarish fright precipitated a wide-eyed glistening stare accompanied by an audible gasp after an internal struggle to ensure he was indeed - _awake_. And even then, with the whistles of his own frenetic breaths sounding loudly in his ears, he wasn't sure. Regardless of eventually being able to convince himself of that fact as a cool breeze fluttered across his cheeks, his heart stayed thudding painfully into his throat. Dim shadows, vaguely remembered incoherent sounds and larger-than-life wraith-like figures remained just on the fringes of his thoughts. He could still see them in a way. They were close, but so sheer ... so deathly fine and insubstantial ... he had no hopes of grasping their purpose for him. He only knew that the flavor of their intentions was decidedly foul.

Tucked on his side, Danny froze in place, confused by the fragmented remnants of what was fading; though not fast enough, nor even with any conviction since he stayed so very unsettled. From all of the chaos, there would be one thing he'd always remember though. He'd always remember the evening he was attacked and now, he was beginning to wonder _how_ it had even happened. Due to that most vivid memory, Danny didn't dare move a muscle. Instead, he listened to the closest sounds which he at first didn't recognize, until he confirmed and then re-confirmed where he was.

_Steve's house. Of course._

"Damn it," Danny whispered, reflexively reprimanding himself by frenetically tearing at the lightweight blanket draped over his shoulders. "Stop ... just stop already." He was sick of it ... sick of the constant stress and of the memories or dreams, or whatever they were, which now ranked more as nightmares. Crazy _things_ which invaded his mind to become more and more warped instead of disappearing. He knew he'd just slept soundly after Steve's earlier and very questionable nap. Yet, something had reached out to him to disrupt and possibly undo the good of the few hours of rest he'd achieved. Regretfully understanding that Steve also had a certain demon or two in his pocket related to him, only made Danny more annoyed and oddly very angry. They both might have escaped, yet everything which continued to plague them merely rekindled a sense of Danny's own personal burden of guilt.

"Enough is enough," he muttered while scowling angrily at his spontaneous reaction. _First him ... then Steve and then ... him, again … again … and again? _

Making matters worse, Danny was positive that his dreams were escalating. They were darker, more jumbled and growing in their intensity. Images were larger and much more threatening as his mind repeatedly played tricks on him. Danny once more found himself not knowing what to do or how to react to things he scarcely remembered as his fingers found a tendril of hair by his ear. Without realizing it, he twirled the hair tightly around one finger and pulled painfully.

He didn't accurately remember much, yet his subconscious certainly did. And what that might not recall with credibility, his over-active, exhausted brain filled in with a terrible vindictiveness. Lost in too many distressing thoughts where reality conflicted with a possible fantasy, he shivered spasmodically. His other hand tugged the blanket's soft material closer, his fist up by his mouth until he calmed to a more reasonable state. But he flinched and lost the hold he had on his hair when a warm slick object slid off the side of his neck. He fished it away from where it fell between his chest and the lounge chair, only to see it was the second spent ice pack which Steve had gotten for him to replace the first.

Steve had been mortified about his slip up - an _accident_ so minor, that it was barely worth mentioning. On any other day, they would have joked about Steve's sloppy punch brought on by Danny's mistake in judgement. Now though, Danny's fingers sketched off the sore skin by his clavicle. He doubted there would even be a bruise. He'd made the error and there was really no harm done. Everything that was going on around them simply seemed bigger and more _sensitive_ since they were both so much off their usual even keels.

He sighed heavily, needing to work at blinking away some of the stubborn premonitions to take a better stock of the reality around him. Night had definitely fallen in earnest and he was turned on his side, facing away from the house and staring directly into the sparse dark-green leafy branches of a small ornamental shrub. The blanket draped over his shoulders was a new addition and a soft breeze was rolling in off the ocean. The noises emanating from behind him were entirely non-threatening, too; such were the trilling clink of glass and the soft slide of ceramic on ceramic as plates were either being readied or put away in the kitchen.

Danny tried to force his clenched fingers to relax, imagining Steve by the kitchen sink or near the counter. The pleasant odor of food lingered on the air and for the first time in a long while, Danny found the smell of what he thought might be chicken, enticing as his stomach rumbled in response. After Steve had inadvertently woken him earlier and gotten the first ice pack, the two had gone for a slow walk up and down the beach as a method to calm their minds. Such exercise was also on Danny's list of prescribed activities to inspire a modicum of normalcy in his day and to encourage more acceptable sleep patterns. However, it hadn't taken long for him to become tired. Still he had insisted on another lap in a stubborn belief that this time, more was better.

Steve had objected the decision though he'd dutifully tagged along offering Danny balance towards the end of the extended walk. Evidently the tactic had worked well because Danny could barely recall Steve's suggestion about having something to eat afterwards. Much to his growing sense of chagrin, he must have fallen asleep mid-food prep and well before a morsel could fall into his mouth. Though he needed to eat, Steve would never even think of waking him, either. So now, Danny was hungry and yet, he chuffed a quizzical noise under his breath in utter self-reproach as he stayed hunkered on his side and loathe to move.

Afraid to move; until he heard something else, low on the wind and incredibly subtle.

"Steve," he whispered his friend's name in awe when his ears registered the quietly playing classical musical which was an undertone barely off-setting the natural cadence of night. Piano only. A soft, melodious underpinning which fit the distant sound of waves and night-time chatter of island insects. Despite the earlier episode or maybe even because of it, plus Danny's compunctions to sleep or not sleep through any variety of frightening memories, Steve was still planning ahead and catering to his needs. The pleasant strains of the music eked through to anchor his awareness. The music changed gently and the next harmonies remained softly constant. He found himself blinking back a rise of emotional tears as he focused hard on the sounds, wiling himself to relax.

"Steve?" Danny hoarsely called out his friend's name more loudly now. He wiped his eyes before moving to roll over onto his back to stare briefly at the riot of stars overhead. With more purpose, he called out again and more loudly. "Hey, Steve?"

There was no answer though and Danny pushed the blanket away before transferring to his opposite side to face the length of the lanai towards the house. A V-shape of amber light cascaded from the opened lanai doors, taking a broader shape as it leaked out towards him. A shadow occasionally broke that pleasant beam and Danny found himself frowning in confusion, stalling on moving further, when he didn't immediately recognize the silhouette.

Whomever was in the kitchen was most definitely not his partner and Danny tensed until a studious double-take identified the new visitor.

"Chin?" Danny's brows knit in consternation as he finally struggled to his feet. He wasn't entirely sure about what he'd missed, but Steve was nowhere in sight. "Why are you here?" He blurted once more as he walked across the lanai, stunned to find Chin where he'd expected to see his partner.

"Danny! Good, you're awake! How did you sleep?" Chin asked, unfazed by Danny's stunned reaction. He smiled warmly, rounding the counter all the while studying Danny closely, his eyes narrowing as he measured what he approved regarding the general complexion and clearer expression. But another look had him concerned about the haunted misery lurking in Danny's eyes. He'd slept, but was undeniably anxious so Chin guessed another nightmare had found its way much too close to the surface. Still, he smiled encouragingly because, based upon the last time he'd seen him, Danny had made significant progress.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it probably sounded," Danny said apologetically. At a momentary loss for words, he scrubbed his hand over his face only to anchor it in his hair. "But, this is a surprise. What happened - why are you here. When did you get back?"

"You look better, brah," Chin said warmly. He hesitated a hairs-breadth before failing at hiding a concerned wince and needing to ask about his friend's strained expression. "Something happened? Bad ... dream?"

"A bit," Danny admitted softly. "Yeah, I guess ... I'm fine though." With an effort, he plastered a facsimile of a smile on his face not only for his friend's sake, but also for his own. He wasn't entirely alright, but wasn't quite ready to dredge up words which would never adequately describe the feelings of stress which had taken up residence in his mind. Instead, he waved his hand between them and then gestured towards the inner depths of the house assuming his partner was somewhere inside. "Where's Steve?"

"He went for a short swim," Chin couldn't prevent the twinkle from shining in his eyes when Danny leaned his upper body forward in askance. He snorted with pleasure at the expression which altered Danny's face completely from one of confusion to utter disbelief. The look was more normal, as was the reaction and for a moment, a glimmer of Danny's more typically fussy personality shown through.

"What? A swim?" Danny replied with a small measure of disgust. "It's the middle of the night ... and Steve goes for a swim? Now? You let him go... out there?"

"Hey, brah! I didn't exactly have a say in the matter," Chin shrugged calmly. He was unable to stop grinning as Danny looked distastefully over his shoulder towards the beach, but he did try to soothe the tension he could feel increasing in Danny's very stance.

"He's alright, Danny. The water's like glass ... hardly a wave in sight ... and there's a full moon. It's so bright, you could probably read a book. But seriously, Steve needed to clear his head a bit and work off some steam; he thought he'd do a quick swim while you were sleeping. "

"Steam?" Danny interrupted, his voice bordering on a louder complaint as he fixated on one word. "Seriously ... _steam_ ... in the middle of the night? Because ... _what_ ... it's a full moon? He's still not a hundred percent either."

"That's all he said, brah," Chin grinned, his nonchalance firmly in place and refusing to echo the real mix of concern and amusement he was feeling for each of his friends. He pointed to the spread of food that littered the counter in a confusing array. Some he'd brought for his impromptu visit, other plates had been recently cooked by Steve, himself. The selection was far too much for the small gathering, yet both men had hoped that something might appeal to Danny when he woke. So Chin pushed now with a simultaneous goal of easing his friend's mind.

"That ... and he mentioned that you hadn't eaten enough today. Why don't you sit down and eat something? He'll be back any minute."

"Uh huh," Danny muttered, any and all consideration of food now gone since he was distracted by the thought of Steve swimming ... alone and in the dark. On one level, he knew that Chin was likely right about the need for Steve to get out and have a break. It was no lie that he would be distinctly at home in the water and find some peace, nonetheless Danny was still unhappy at the late night choice. If anything at that moment, his feelings of anxiety had only increased at the news.

"No, food. Not yet." He scrubbed at his face again before giving an idle wave towards the plates of food which Chin had been portioning out. He barely noticed when his friend's face began to mirror his own in its seriousness. " You don't have to come ... I'll be right back," Danny finally added. "I'll go check ... make sure he's on his way ... and that he's okay."

He heard Chin's unconcealed sigh, but didn't reply. Rather, Danny marched slowly back out the doors and across the lanai to take the short trail down to the beach. Maybe it was still the residual affects of the nightmare, but he was on edge and he needed to be sure Steve was okay. There wouldn't be a way for him to reasonably relax or even consider eating until they were in the same place.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Steve sliced through the water at something much less than his usual speed. Emotional and physical stresses continually sapped his energy and distracted him to no end. He was thankful for two things though, and maybe even three. At the top of the list, Danny had still been sleeping peacefully when he'd left the house for his late night swim. Chin's opportune arrival had actually spelled success in a number of ways, too. Their mission had officially been terminated and his unexpected knock had freed Steve to do precisely what he was doing that very moment while his partner continued to get his much needed rest.

He submerged cleanly for another long full cleansing before popping up to stroke calm, easy lines directly out from his beach. The moon was brilliant that night and he had no trouble keeping an eye on his location, distance from shore, nor on his mental clock which timed his exercise down to the split-second. Only being in the open water could effectively cool unhealthy distractions so that he could think or conversely, _not,_ as if he were in a safe bubble of just being.

Steve had been out for almost an hour and was pushing into his reserves. He'd time himself down to where he'd begin to test himself to a nearly unfair level of exertion. But he needed it in a desperate way and so, hung on doggedly until he knew that continuing would spell a potential disaster. His eyes narrowed in serious study while treading water just barely at chin level. He had turned towards the beach and saw the easily recognizable outline of his partner standing at the water's edge. He had no trouble seeing Danny in the moonlight. What he did have trouble with, was the fact that Danny had begun to move and he was now in the water and slowly walking out even further.

Leaving the peace of the lanai, Danny had walked barefoot down to the private beach and found a new calm. He had no trouble seeing in the dark, since as Chin had described, it was one of those brilliantly lit nights. Certainly, Mother Nature at her finest. Without a cloud in the sky nor even the whisper of a breeze, the moon was huge and low in the sky to completely light his way. Danny paused at the edge of gently moving ripples to catch his breath, cursing his limited stamina. He paused and searched the horizon, but couldn't see Steve no matter how hard he looked. Seeing his hand on the beach was one thing, but looking far out across the waves, no matter how tiny their shiny peaks, was something entirely else.

The water was barely moving and there wasn't a sound to be heard except for the occasional chirp of a nocturnal bird or even an insect. Danny had waited a bit longer to look around, yet when he still didn't see Steve, he walked purposefully into the shallows. He kept going with the pebbly sand under his feet and the water rising to saturate the hospital scrubs up to his knees, where the wetness continued on as if the thin material were a sponge. When he was not quite waist deep and the scrubs now completely soaked, Danny stopped and allowed his fingertips to just skim the surface of the water. He shivered involuntarily as a small wave slapped the hem of his shirt to continue the water's progress even higher. His brain toyed with games of keeping the peace or building on a newly ingrained discomfort and he argued the test. With a studious purpose, Danny ignored the somewhat uncomfortable sensations to simply stand half drenched and half dry, eyes closed and relaxing in an effort to absorb the real peace of the moment.

"I thought that Danno don't swim," the teasing voice whispered just off to Danny's right.

"No," Danny whispered back, a small smile evident in his tone though he kept his eyes closed. "Danno don't ... _surf_. I do swim ... on occasion ... but right now, I'm wading."

"Wading?" Steve had no choice but to cough out a laugh. He'd forgotten his somewhat fatigued state to double-time his return to the shallows. His relief at finding his partner oddly content while partially submerged was nearly palpable. "Is that what you're doing out here? Wading? I have a partner who _wades_? I don't think that I quite know what to do with that intel, Danno."

"Intel?" Danny lightly snarked back with a small version of his old heat rising to the fore. "By the way, I came out here looking for you. Are you intentionally trying to give me a heart attack? Swimming ... now? In the middle of the night?"

"Yeah, intel ... but, no to the heart attack," Steve pursed his lips in the dark and dared to smile. He could clearly see Danny's face and the complexion was still a bit too pale for his liking. However, and even though he looked a bit unsteady as the tide circled around him, the muscular tremble was gone. Their eyes met when Danny cocked his head curiously in his direction and Steve found himself smiling broadly at the brief query which begged an answer to the last question posed.

"Yeah, that too. Yes to swimming." Steve's shrug was dramatic as he stated the obvious without apology. "With Chin here, I needed to get out a bit, Danno. You know that."

The resulting nod was ruefully agreeable as the two soothed each other. "You slept a long time. What about dinner ... did you eat ...," Steve began, but he stopped mid-sentence when Danny shook his head, a lost look suddenly taking over his expression.

"I was just getting home from work," Danny whispered, the smile evaporating from both his voice and his face in an instant. He didn't mean to go here. He hadn't meant to dredge this up. But standing in the Pacific in the middle of the night, it was as if his brain switched to autopilot and his mouth was only along for the ride. "It was late, maybe after nine at night when I opened the front door. We had all just left the office."

Steve's pleasant expression also disappeared just as quickly when he realized where his friend was going. Danny's eyes closed in concentration, his face now pinched and furrowed as he recounted something obviously critically important to him.

"It was so dark that night; not like now ... but so absolutely pitch black and they were waiting just inside the front door to my house. I didn't even have time to flip a light switch on. First, I was unlocking the door and then there was nothing. I can't believe how fast they were ... how damned _fast_ and organized." The words came out in a rush of sound without the benefit a breath of air or the simplicity of a pause. "The next thing I remember is a boat ... hours below deck with no light and not enough air ... such rough water. But not enough ... air ... how could that even be right?"

"They were mercenaries ... all ex-military and each had a particular job to manage in our abduction. They'd practiced and learned our habits," Steve clarified softly, however he was mentally chewing on Danny's words. A remembered claustrophobic environment was yet another catalyst adding to his partner's list of woes and he groaned to himself at this newest confession.

"Chin said we were taken within hours of each other during our downtime; no one knew either of us was missing until the morning rally. That night, I was just about to start working on the Marquis in the old garage and I don't remember getting any farther than the rear bumper." Steve felt Danny's personal affront just as keenly. Trained, capable and always primed for the unexpected, he'd also been taken by surprise and incapacitated with ease all within his own home.

"I'm sorry," Danny suddenly muttered. He re-opened his eyes, holding up his hand to beg Steve to let him finish because he knew that Steve would have no idea as to why he might be apologizing. The feeling of peace faded just as quickly and now he was simply standing in salty seawater up to his waist in the middle of the night. He was suddenly uncomfortable and unhappy, yet Danny needed to say certain things and he wanted to be understood, even if on many levels, it didn't make much sense. He wanted Steve to hear what he had to say, even if he might not agree. "I'm sorry that I was no help ... none at all ...from the beginning ... I didn't do a damned thing."

"Are you serious?" Steve breathed out incredulously. "Danny, what happened was completely out of your control ... and it was almost out of mine, too. They didn't make many mistakes."

"I tried over and over," Danny continued softly, his eyes glistening like the moonlit water which surrounded them. "I tried so hard to fight them."

He shivered at the dark memories and eerie sensations which teased again as the ocean sent small waves to ripple higher around his waist. For a bleak moment he remembered the sound of metal buckets, sardonic laughter, the feel of icy water and then of being so cold that he'd been unable to stop shivering. Over and over ... terror that was continually becoming the thing of nightmare. He wasn't sure what was real in that painful flux of sudden bits of broken memory and he physically wavered in place bringing Steve closer with a startled splash.

"Hey! Danny ... take it easy! I know ... I _know_ and everything's going to be okay now." Steve's eyes widened in surprise when Danny's knees seemed to wobble though they were out of sight. "We can talk about all of this inside. Let's get out of the water ... okay? Let's get something to eat ... you definitely need a change of clothes now, too. Let's go, come on."

"I tried," Danny repeated weakly as he felt the hand which grasped his elbow dig in deeper to hold him upright as he palmed his eyes sharply despite the seawater which now dampened his face and ran down his arms. Behind the pressure he inflicted upon his lids, Danny focused on the blackish sparkle he'd also created. He was losing it again and didn't want to, but he couldn't stop.

"I know you did," Steve replied adamantly. "I know you did, buddy. I saw it ... and I know." A vivid picture of the leader slapping his friend repeatedly on the side of his head literally made him cringe. He was positive that abuse was the reason for Danny's occasional rending of his hair between his fingers. A remembered pain? A sliver of sharp evil that still rattled his head at the worst of times? Regardless, by the time he'd been allowed to see him at the height of their tactics, it had truly almost been too late. Yet, Danny had stayed on his feet ... trembling ... begging ... but _fighting_. He had surely more than tried and he didn't need to convince Steve of anything otherwise.

"Especially when we got to see each other ... when they proved that they had you, too. I _tried_, Steve, but it was too much. It wasn't good enough and now. _Now_? I don't know what to do because I can't make it stop. Seeing you that one time is just about the last thing which I _do_ remember and I don't know what's going on ... what _happened_? What did I do ... what _do_ I do to make it stop?" Danny's voice continued to rise, the past merging with the present and the quaver becoming a frenetic tremor despite Steve's best reassurances.

"Make what stop? The nightmares?" Steve growled under his breath when Danny jerked his head sharply to affirm the excellent guess.

"Listen, Danny. I don't know what you're blaming yourself for ... I don't know what you think you didn't do. As far as I'm concerned, you succeeded and beat them at this sick game," Steve insisted, an arm snaking around Danny to turn him towards the beach. He didn't dare say that lack of sleep was causing the emotional swings; the cause had become a black mark, Danny was sick of hearing it as an excuse, and in a way, it didn't matter anymore. Other issues were taking center stage and Steve remained determined to battle each one. Through his arm, Steve felt the beginnings of a real panic attack beginning and his friend was in no condition to deal with another desperate surge of anxiety.

"Try to calm down and let's talk more inside. I know these nightmares are overwhelming ... I know that you're not firing on all cylinders yet ... and I understand. They put you through some kind of hell and I _get_ it. I promise you that things are going to get better. I told you time and again that we were going to get through this together, so what can I do for you right now, Danno? What do you need?"

There was no answer to a single one of his questions though and Steve wound up virtually holding his partner up as they waded to shore side by side. They hit the sand as one, Danny tiredly shaking his head as if unable to answer him at all, but his eventual reply was completely out of left field and it had Steve mentally reeling.

"I think I want to go back," Danny stated unexpectedly. They were nearing the house and could see the yellowish light leaking outwards from the lanai, as well as hear the first strains of the continually playing classical music which Steve had thoughtfully piped through the house. Danny blinked at the vignette comparing the brightness of the lanai to that of the moonlit beach before speaking just under his breath. "Yes ... I do want to go back."

At first his voice held a note of doubt and his hand flailed wildly to capture Steve's as they slowly made their way. But as the spontaneous purge re-intensified, Danny knew that he had the answer and his voice gained strength despite it being Steve who was now adamantly shaking his head to object.

He didn't remember enough ... he couldn't see the reality in his head and he needed to confront the demons as they morphed and twisted inside his brain. "No, I want to see it ... I _have_ to see it in order to get rid of it. Get me back there, Steve. _Please_ ... just get me there."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	16. Chapter 16

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **The muse is being allowed to purge a bromantic whumpfest, so I guess it will end when the muse says so. The last five chapters in Doc Manager are title "The End". _Meh._

My original goal was a plotless, whumpfest with little care for true medical factoids. Mostly un-beta'd, no real accurate timeline and a clear decision to take many liberties across the board. I also promised the muse it could run amok, so hold tight because I don't know where this may go.

**Chapter Sixteen**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

It wasn't only Danny who had stopped talking. Steve had also fallen silent with his mixed bag of shouldered responsibilities. Having sworn he was fine and simply displeased about the trip, he found himself distinctly agitated the closer they motored to the old bunker's remote location. A deeply intoned gravelly sigh escaped his lips as his eyes fell on the beach-head and he missed Danny's circumspect and very thoughtful study. He disagreed about the visit and had made his case clearly known amongst the team. But Danny had persevered with his typical stubbornness – or _pig headed-ness_\- according to his duly disturbed friend, which had only made Steve _in_ for the duration. He was in, hook line and sinker, no matter what happened and with his own usual stalwart sense of duty to support Danny regardless of their disagreement.

He sighed loudly again, lips pursed worriedly when he caught Danny now openly staring at him. The amused half-grin which didn't quite reach Danny's eyes, only made Steve tighten the sweaty grip he had around his own crisscrossed arms. And then there was the issue of Danny's eyes. While they were clear and occasionally defiant, as they were now, they still weren't as vibrant as they used to be. The turmoil was all that Steve could see. Torment and a frenetic pain.

Not needing to look down, he knew the knuckles of his fingers were tinged white as he grappled his own biceps in stress. Without saying a word to him about the noisy antics, Danny turned back towards the water. But Steve had just caught the convulsive swallow which told him all he needed to confirm about Danny's underlying anxieties. They were en route now and there was nothing more to say. They had certainly said enough over the last few days to each other, hashing and then rehashing what was right and what was wrong. Arguments and counter-arguments had flown across the lanai with only Chin as the referee. But where the man should have been neutral at best, Steve had lost there too, because Chin had wholeheartedly agreed with Danny.

"Ten minutes out, sir," one of the Coasties informed Steve as he stood anchored on the deck. He frowned at the update before giving the man a curt nod.

"Just great," Steve muttered under his breath. "Fantastic." He rolled his aching shoulders in a vain attempt to alleviate their stiffness, his eyes once more centered on the rear of Danny's head. Even when he sensed Chin join him as sentry, Steve was helpless in preventing another softly aggrieved sigh from escaping as he prayed that this final decision be the right one.

Danny stood on the prow of the Coast Guard boat in the hot sun, shoulders hunched up to his ears and his eyes blazing in their intensity as he stared hard at the approaching coastline. Still vehemently against the trip, Steve had not only coordinated their plans, he was standing behind him with a belligerent stoicism. Danny could feel the man's eyes burning a dual set of holes through his back. They were both tense, angry for different reasons, but committed to finishing the task. Only Chin had been entirely supportive of the concept to bring a more realistic vision to Danny's ongoing issues. Putting what Danny called 'these crazy things' into their proper context also made sense to the older Asian. However, while he completely understood the _concept_, Steve's personal disapproval had to do with the potential to make things inadvertently worse.

The boat slowed to a stop, but Steve only moved when Danny did, following his friend to where a smaller motorized dinghy would take them to shore. They would have arrived much earlier if they'd flown, but Danny wouldn't hear of it. He wanted things to be as they were so he'd benefit from that context. Steve had been so angry at that point, he'd asked if Danny also wanted to be tied up and thrown into the brig for good measure. Chin had rolled his eyes skyward asking the heavens for patience, but the look which Danny had given him would have skinned the hide from a dead cat. Each of them knew that Steve was worried and being overly protective. His counter-arguments were valid and included issues which Danny also held misgivings about. He understood that his desire to see where he'd been taken could seriously make things much worse in the long run. Still, he refused to change his mind.

"Let's go," Danny said, glancing over to Steve and Chin as the Coasties beckoned them onto the smaller launch. For a fraction of a second, he almost changed his mind to backpedal and run for the safety of the bigger vessel. Instead, he jumped on ahead with Steve on his heels, a circumspect shake of his head the only evidence that Danny knew that getting on this boat would be the last thing he did first once they hit the beach. From that moment on, either Chin or Steve would be guaranteed to take point; likely Chin who had managed their rescue and subsequent clean-up inside the bunker after what Steve had left behind.

"This is going to be worse than trying to drive my own car," Danny sarcastically muttered. But he wasn't mad, he was actually relieved in every way imaginable. He felt Steve bump into his shoulder as they settled next to each other, Chin taking a seat directly behind them. Danny's eyes were still trained on the beach, yet he could feel the volumes of stress rolling off his partner

"Steve," Danny said, his eyes never wavering as they cast off from the bigger boat.

"What?" There was a spike of alarm in the tone bringing Danny's attention directly back to Steve's face where he plainly saw the anxiety. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." There was no sense in hiding his own nervousness. Danny was sweating profusely and there was a solid lump which closed his dry throat to such an extent he barely managed the next few words. "Just ... thanks."

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Danny rocked to a sudden halt just outside the entrance to the old WW2 bunker and Steve literally plowed into his back. The dirt to the dark entrance trampled from its recent use, yet the opening was still partially concealed by an overgrowth of vines. He was taken aback by the small outline of the doorway and the blackness beyond, but he smelled it first – that cold, dank aged scent of mold, mildew and sick wetness. On those redolent undertones, there even might have been a lingering whiff of death, but that could've been his imagination kicking in with its own brand of vengeance. Regardless, the thick stench was what practically crushed whatever resolve he'd cobbled together the closer they'd come to their destination.

"Shit," He whispered under his breath, a hand going directly up to cover his nose and mouth. He'd expected certain things to be problematic, but not once had he considered this attack on his olfactory sense or what it instantly conjured, and his stomach roiled before his head began to pound. "It … stinks."

"We… you… don't have to do this," Steve said without even a hint of emotion. Their small contingent had made the long hike in from the beach and everyone was over-heated and near silent in their sweaty discomfort. The walk had taken longer than anticipated due to Danny's need to rest more frequently, yet he hadn't voiced a single complaint. Instead, he'd gotten to his feet after each period to doggedly follow Chin deeper into the jungle.

"He's right," Chin added, a concerned look flickering over his face as he picked up on Steve's silent plea. "We'll do whatever you want, but maybe this is far enough, Danny. Maybe all of this was too soon for you to try. It's tight in there and if you're not ready, we can come back at a better time."

The two men assumed that Danny's claustrophobia was coming to the fore, worsened with the nasty reek of the place. What they didn't understand though was the exact opposite was happening inside his head. Danny was ghostly pale and looking more fragile with every passing second. If he'd been quiet before on the boat, he was mute now after only mumbling about the bad smell.

He could hear _their_ jeers and laughter in his head again. They echoed to him from just inside the inky black of the doorway. Nasty taunts and insults meant to hurt and provoke.

"Danny?" He more sensed Steve's worried voice than heard him. Instead, Danny reeled mentally remembering the touch of too many hands which pushed and pulled him this way and that.

_'Give him a bath first.' A mean voice jeered in glee _and Danny physically wavered as the mental hatred exploded on a whiff of acrid, old air. _'Still ... you don't remember?' _

"Danny," Steve pleaded one last time, a hand falling to his shoulder, stunned by the heat leaking from his friend's body. "We don't have to do this."

"No," Danny ground out as he thumbed on a heavy-duty flashlight. Brushing rudely past Chin, he heaved in a huge breath of fresh air to virtually charge through the narrow doorway and into the tunneled system.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	17. Chapter 17

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Covered in sweat and full of self-doubts which he might never admit to, Danny barely reached the entrance to the inky blackness when a firm hand stayed his progress. He rocked back on his heels, nearly falling as Chin anchored his hand to his shoulder. "What? What's wrong?" He blurted.

"Wait," Chin said, using his body to prevent Danny's further headlong dash when a flicker of confusion clouded his face. At a loss for the reason behind the sudden intervention, Danny tried to shirk out from under his hand but failed completely when Chin merely buried his fingers in Danny's shirt before shifting even more to block the entire passageway. "You need to hear me out because I need to say something important and you have to give me a few minutes before you go in there."

Though Chin was entirely supportive of the visit, there were many things which concerned him. While Steve thought the venture potentially very damaging, Chin had become desperately concerned about the converse being true. His latest feelings included the possibility that Danny might not find anything of value at all. That this very return to a terrible place would actually wind up being seen as completely senseless, leading to a whole host of new problems.

"No, wait, Danny. Hear me out," Chin asked, speaking tactfully as Danny once again tried to free himself from his tenacious grip. "Seriously, I want you to remember that this is just an old, abandoned outpost," he offered logically. He was close, intentionally crowding into mutual personal space while peering up into his face. He demanded Danny's full attention, intent on clearly making him understand precisely what he meant.

"I know that ... we're wasting time," Dany interrupted, only quieting a possible stress-filled and frustrated tirade when Chin remained calm and a shake of his head demanded the right to continue speaking.

"You might find out that there's nothing here but a bunch of old ruined tunnels and rooms. What happened is over … so I'm suggesting that you go in with an open mind and be ready to let it all go … I want you to see this place for what it is, _brah_. As for what happened to you and Steve, I'm not at all discounting any of that. But what you were both subjected to is going to wind up being a bunch of bad memories which will also fade given the right amount of time."

Behind them, Steve loitered just within listening distance mentally chewing on each of Chin's statements. He'd been so steadfast in his own beliefs, he'd not considered such a perception and he made a small bemused sound just under his breath. He gave Chin a lot of credit for considering such an out-of-the box possibility. He didn't know what might happen if Danny actually found nothing to relate to inside the old bunker system. This new argument was sound and inordinately wise. It still supported Danny's decision to return, but demanded that they all keep open minds to find resolution in the most obscure of manners. So instead of speaking, Steve waited for what Danny might say in response. However, his partner simply nodded as if he, too, were baffled by Chin's theories.

"Danny?" Chin urged, unconvinced that the nod was agreeable enough for his comments to have mattered. "It's good that we're here; I only want you to consider all the options."

"Yeah," Danny finally said to put his friend's mind to some ease even if he were't entirely yet convinced. He was anxious to get moving and the frown seared across his face seemed permanent. Gesturing towards continuing down the tunnel, he sighed dramatically since Chin refused to yield a single inch. "Okay, yes. Fine, I understand what you're saying. Open mind. Letting it go ... and maybe this is a bunch of nothing. I get it ... now, can we get on with this?"

After the subsequent pause and another deep considering look, Chin released his hold. He moved aside without saying another word, permitting Danny to continue on his personal journey.

Danny didn't hesitate once he got moving. He appreciated Chin's comments and knew that both of his friends would be directly behind him. They both had his back. The Coasties would be bringing up the rear, undeniably more interested in the excitement of checking out the antique relic than what the three Five-0 men might be doing in their so called ad hoc _reconnaissance mission_. But Danny needed to take these first many steps or he'd never even have another chance to find out if Chin might be right. So determinedly moving forward, his flashlight lit the way first, followed by no less than five others which combined to demolish the darkness.

Despite the light they all shed together though, the walls closed in around him within seconds and Danny felt the nauseating balled up tension of another issue rising through his chest. The rank odors also intensified ten-fold and he coughed harshly enough for Chin to put an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay?" Chin gently asked.

"I'm fine," Danny whispered through a coughed gag, shaking his head as he tried to stay focused. He'd been here before and he could do this again; he needed to do this. So he walked intuitively with one hand covering his nose and mouth and the other clasped tightly around the flashlight. Without really thinking, he led the small group to the first cross-section of tunnels where he was drawn sharply to the left. Behind Chin, Steve grimaced uncomfortably because Danny for some uncanny reason, seemed to know precisely where to go.

When Danny stopped in the doorway to a large barren room, he didn't hedge even though he was panting now and sweat was streaming down his face, trickling down his back-bone, and the severely wavering light from his own hand proved his increasing levels of stress. He purposefully entered the room, boldly looking around and illuminating every single corner.

"Here," Danny gagged as the most foul of odors confirmed what he'd found and he smothered another reflexive sound. "It … looks different. It's … not what I thought. But … I think … here."

"Dammit, Daniel," Steve growled out more loudly as he squeezed by Chin to unhappily add his light to his partner's. Despite his vehement disagreement, he'd always support his partner, but his own trained ability to compartmentalize was slowly unraveling as he re-experienced a similar strain. It made no matter to him that the room was now deathly quiet and empty. Death was what the space still held and he had no interest in staying, whether it be short or long.

"Steve," Danny said, wincing as he glanced to his right and measured Steve's very poor attempt at showcasing an unreadable face. He was angry and distinctly upset, and Danny frowned at what he saw. Steve didn't want to be there and he'd been against the trip from the very start. Yet, here he was anyway to support him and of all the rooms to first stumble upon, it had to be this one.

"I'm sorry," Danny apologized softly. He didn't need to confirm what this room had been nor put context to Steve's displeased expression. He innately knew this room was indeed '_it' _\- the place where Steve had been kept, toyed with, and then subsequently had dispatched each of their abductors.

"Yes it is, and we should go," Steve stated bluntly, putting affirmation to his partner's questioning eyes, clearly perturbed by where they were standing. He used the side of his arm to blot the sweat beading his forehead. He also agreed that the place looked entirely different now that it had been cleared out by their people. With even the splintered wood from the destroyed chair now gone, if he'd chosen to do so, he'd be hard-pressed to imagine where he'd been forced to sit or where the mercenaries' bodies had been aptly discarded. However, he couldn't decide if that was a good or a bad thing. Before he could offer any other word of advice or draw similarities to what Chin had mentioned, Danny was on the move and sidling out of the room. This time, his eyes were closed and one hand was out-stretched as if he trying to dredge up something of value.

"Now what," Steve ground out, hot on his heels. "None of this is going to be a silver bullet," he cursed to himself while on his way out of his one-time cell to gain ground in his partner's now more hesitant wake as he tried to force something either into or out of his brain.

"Steve, he has to do this," Chin softly urged his friend for patience knowing that both men were suffering in different ways. He grabbed Steve's arm to gain his full attention, ignoring the resultant sigh. "We made the trip and we're all here now, so let him try … it's good that it's all different. Maybe that's the key."

"Let's hope," Steve muttered, stubbornly unconvinced that their little exercise was nothing more than a futile gamble. "I do hope you're right, Chin." The two men left the room together, quickly following Danny as he fumbled down the corridor.

Still leading the way, Danny blindly felt along the walls trying to reimagine what it had been like – what he had felt like so many very long days ago, but he only partially succeeded until he discovered one other room. As Chin had warned, everything was very different and he found himself both annoyed and inordinately relieved. But then he stumbled across this one additional room and his startled intake of breath was clearly audible. Like before where Steve had been kept separate from him, Danny knew this second room instantly for the cloying odor of mildew which sent a nearly tangible spike of pain through his head. He knew it for the heavy iron ring drilled into the wall. But the matching four secured to the concrete floor sent him directly back in time. He'd been tied here and taunted for so many hours ... or days ... he didn't know and likely never would know for certain. In the beginning, he'd fought them when he learned their intentions. Out-numbered and slowly spiraling out of control, none of his objections had mattered. In fact, he'd only served to entertain his abductors even more.

_"Tired, Detective?"_ A voice taunted distantly in his head. Danny closed his eyes tightly, sweat now freely streaming down his face to soak the neck of his t-shirt. The remembered voice was attached to a hazy-faced, dark-haired man who had been leaning directly over him. He couldn't be sure of the man's true features, but he remembered the white-toothed sneer and oily tone of the man's voice.

_"I bet you'd like to sleep wouldn't you?"_ The voice continued relentlessly. _"Closing your eyes for a few minutes sounds like a good idea doesn't it? I can do that for you - all you need to do is tell me one thing. Tell me one thing ... all you need to tell me is one. Little. Thing."_

_"Go to hell," Danny's own voice whispered over and over. _Even now in his mind, he sounded strained in the beginning of the onslaught of a terrible misery. He wobbled on his feet where he stood at the base of one of the sunken rings, a sour smell settling in his nostrils, only hearing the mercenary's gleeful laugh at meeting his challenge head on.

_"No, that's for you ... that's where you are, Detective. Your own tiny little version of hell."_ The man had hunkered down closer like a catcher in a baseball game. He'd balanced on the balls of his feet and he'd laid his handgun mockingly across Danny's bare chest. The muzzle had intentionally been facing his throat and even now, Danny could still feel the heat of the man's hand on his skin tracing the gun's outline. Danny had been unable to flinch away from the sickly touch and the man's contemptuous grin had deepened at his reaction. He'd taken his gun back then, using it to caress Danny's neck and face, until he'd gotten bored with the game.

_"You'll tell me what I want to know ... soon,"_ he'd whispered. _"Welcome to hell, Detective." _There'd been more laughter and then the mercenary had simply stood up and walked away. Seconds later though, the first of too many ice cold buckets of water had methodically drenched his trapped body from head to foot.

_"Welcome home,"_ the voice whispered one final time and just inches from his right ear.

"Steve," Danny moaned his partner's name lowly, now barely on his feet and nearly numb at the depth of the memories. He was awake but he weirdly needed to wake up and step away from the mental images, but he was petrified to even dare open his eyes. "Steve ... I ... here ... Steve!"

"Chin, move!" Steve almost ran over the top of the Asian when he realized what his partner had discovered. He rounded on Danny as he stood swaying in the middle of the room where the bulk of abuse had occurred. It was the same place which Steve had found him so tightly trussed up against the wall. It was precisely the same dank room where he'd discovered Danny's ruined wallet and the two water-stained photographs of Grace. And without a single doubt, Danny also recognized it as the sound of panicked harshly whistled panted breaths filled the air.

"Danny," Steve didn't hesitate in reaching out to him. He put his flashlight on the ground to grab both of his friend's shoulders, mortified when he staggered in place.

"Steve ... I ... can't ... breathe," he whimpered pitifully. "No ... air."

"I'm here, Danno. You're okay ... you're fine and there's plenty of air," Steve quickly whispered. Under his hands, Danny was trembling in earnest now. With his eyes still wedged shut, he was shaking badly as small puffed whistling sounds barely escaped his lips.

"Breathe with me," Steve coached as he bent down, leaning sweaty forehead to sweaty forehead before the threat of hyperventilation could escalate. "I'm right here and you're not alone. Breathe through it ... just breathe in ... then out. Nice and easy. Come on, Danno, breathe for me, buddy."

The two stayed that way together for a few minutes until Danny was able to gain a little bit of ground. The sharp whistling lessened, only to replaced with convulsive gulps of air which did little to ease the ashen complexion. Weakly gesturing to the bolted iron rings, Danny tried to speak but his voice broke and he wound up coughing instead.

"Let's get him out of here," Chin said as he pointedly gestured for the Coasties to shed as much light on the room and outside corridor as possible. Then, he and Steve physically moved Danny as far away as they could before he began to weakly protest. Still unable to speak, Danny shook his head first, tears streaming down his face before he tugged against each of their stronger hands.

"Drink," Chin demanded, only allowing his distraught friend to pull out of his hands so that he could quickly uncap a canteen of water. With Steve virtually holding him up against a wall, Chin held the canteen to Danny's lips insisting that he take careful sips until he could regain more of his composure. "One thing at a time, Danny. Calm down and drink ... slowly."

"Enough. Stop," Danny eventually whispered when he found the strength and wherewithal to get himself back under control and push the water away. He sensed his friends' intentions to get him out of the bunker system and he simply wasn't ready yet. Pulling harder against Chin who was now as determined as Steve to end their expedition, Danny managed to free his right arm. Shortly after, he tried to dig his boots into the concrete floor to prevent Steve's progress, sending puffs of old dirt and dust billowing up in small spurts. "No, no, no ... stop. I'm okay now."

"I can't have you do this anymore," Steve adamantly replied, only stopping to wrap both his arms around Danny's shoulders when the smaller man turned back to face where they'd just left. "Danny, no. Just stop." His expression was stricken and yet he was wholly impressed by his partner's stubborn determination to push ahead. "It's not right. It's not right ... and none of this is going to help a damned thing ... I can't watch you do this to yourself."

"I have to agree," Chin added, a small apologetic smile briefly creeping across his face as he changed from his original stance. "We've all seen enough, _brah_."

"No, you're both wrong," Danny ground out as he purposefully unwound Steve's arms from his body. He was still trembling as he wiped the sweat from his cheeks, but he'd at least got his breathing back under control. He promised himself that he would stay in control despite his tendency to be claustrophobic and the nature of what was happening.

"It was just something I remembered ... in that room. Where I was ... what they did .. to me ..." Danny insisted, stumbling over words and completely failing at getting his point across. His voice sounded wrecked in his own ears and he frowned when Steve cupped a worried hand behind his neck. "... what _he_ said ... but I'm fine. It's over,

"I don't believe you," Steve interrupted him, his face now gone stony as he studied Danny's disheveled state. "You're not fine." His tone though strongly combined both a very real anger and a deep sense of concern. "It's where I found you, Danny. And I damn well can guess what they did ... I can guess too well what they did to you before I got us out of there. I can imagine what you remembered and forcing yourself to relive this is wrong. It's all kinds of wrong."

"Being here's not wrong, Steve. I need to see it," Danny argued back. "Just ... I want to be sure nothing else is here. I have to be able to see the rest to put it behind me. Steve ... _please_. I need to see the rest of this place... don't make me leave. Not now ... not yet."

"Why, Danny? Why put yourself through all of this?" Steve shook his head firmly, his hand dropping away from his partner only to ball itself into a tight white-knuckled fist. He found himself waffling as he weighed and measured Danny's general well-being. He desperately wanted to support Danny with his wishes, but not at such a high expense. "I never wanted to come back here; it's not a good idea."

"I know and I'm sorry. But ... I'm staying," Danny whispered back, and he was very sorry, too. He was incredibly upset himself for putting Steve thorough something he truthfully objected to with every fiber of his being. He apologized again, hating himself for needing to finish what he'd begun. "Steve, I'm so sorry ... I am. But I've really got to do this ... I _have_ to."

"Danny," Steve raised both of his hands in utter frustration when his partner ducked away from him. Their argument was only going to escalate and Danny was digging in with more and more of an old rabid sense of purpose. On any other day, Steve would've smiled, but not just then.

"Five minutes," he reluctantly muttered after a moment. "Five ... and do not leave my sight. Then I'm dragging you out of here myself if I have to."

"You won't have to," Danny replied, the smallest of thankful smiles flashing across his face before it disappeared. "Five ... just five minutes."

From that point on, he went from room to room, down long corridors making lefts and rights with no particular thought. Once more, Danny became breathless, but this time, it was his claustrophobic tendencies which were all screaming at him to stop and to get out of the underground airless hole as he pushed himself harder and harder to find something of real value.

Other than the rancid odors though and just a few haunted memories, the rest of the bunker was remarkably bland. There was nothing else. Just like Chin had so recently warned, what was there now was an empty decrepit old shell left to crumble under the elements. Nothing was familiar except for the foul smells and the general oddly cold humidity of the place. No matter where he went, the old concrete was chalky gray and almost black where moisture was seeping through the walls. Stagnant water collected to puddle on the ground, making each step a dangerous slippery challenge. On one level, it was eerily familiar, but on too many other levels, it was completely and utterly unrecognizable.

For a moment, his heart pounded out of control in his chest as he placed his fingers against the dampness of a crumbling wall. They were near his room again and he could sense Steve's concern rising in spades as if it were a palpable cloak settling around his shoulders. Yet Danny closed his eyes to think long and hard, forcing one remnant of hatred to bubble up inside his brain. _'Run … move … don't stop … your Commander … your friend is next.'_

His over-taxed emotions warred with his mind to tease him that he was alone and deeply underground. He should leave. He should escape the way Steve so desperately wanted him that very minute. But he scowled darkly as he vaguely recalled the pain of being shoved, falling and then being yanked to his feet when he was forced to run-hobble down a dimly lit passageway. So beyond a state of exhaustion that he'd been reduced to virtually nothing. All he'd heard and been aware of were the threats against Steve and then Grace delivered relentlessly and so maliciously that he'd believed every single word.

But it wasn't what he was seeing now that conjured those splintered memories. The old hollowed-out concrete rooms were nothing really. His imagination had built the bunkers into a large ominous black moat; in reality, the tunnels and myriad of rooms were smaller, narrower and quite decrepit. They were finite and not really part of the evil equation.

It was the overwhelmingly bad smell which settled in his nose, mouth and encased his body. The malodor itself brought with it the residual memories which then combined to only barely create a substantial whole because nothing he was seeing meant much. Nor, could he accurately remember any other given moment of his abuse and he began to truly understand Chin's initial sage words of advice.

"Nothing," Danny moaned softly in frustration as a spike of adrenalin that he was alone in the dark briefly out-weighed common sense. He swallowed hard, forcing a sour taste to stay at bay as the rest of the hurried footsteps came his way. Either Chin or Steve remained directly behind him the entire time and Danny could hear the echo of the others as they all assembled nearby to almost too courteously await his next decision.

"Remember what I said," Chin murmured as he stood by Danny's side. He was now peering up into his friend's face, worried anew by the tightly closed eyes and pale complexion. He tried to put a settling hand on the nape of Danny's neck, his concern re-escalating when Danny's eyes snapped open in a stunned response to the unexpected touch. Chin refused to budge though, using all of his innate skills to continually provide support with a heavy dose of wisdom.

"Have you seen enough of these old tunnels? Can you understand what I meant before so you can put some of these things to rest?"

"Maybe. Yes. I don't know." Danny vacillated wildly, shaking his head in confusion because he suddenly wasn't getting much more out of this return visit. He flashed his light down one last tunnel and its near endless expanse of narrow walls until the darkness seemed to swallow it whole. He trained it closer to where he stood and the light now gleamed yellowish-white on a series of childish scrawlings. _Graffiti_.

Out of habit, his flashlight dipped to investigate the neighboring ground where pieces of broken glass sparkled brightly in yet another, much larger puddle of dank swampy water. Danny looked bleakly back up to the grotesquely bubbled letters which bled into each other in muted worn colors. Teenagers had partied here once, but he hadn't been to this badly dilapidated section before. Of that he was certain, so he discounted what he couldn't read and also didn't care to try to decipher.

"I guess ... but ...," he wheezed tiredly, shoulders dragging downwards in defeat as he rested his forehead against the damp wall. "I thought there'd be more here to see. Just ... more."

The large flashlight he held was suddenly too heavy in his hand and he felt Steve retrieve it from his fingers before it could fall. For once, he couldn't decide what he thought he might've achieved as a sense of absolute disappointment and loss filled his whole body. Other than triggering a few terrible memories, this place held nothing for him.

"This place is nothing … there's nothing here, Danno, and you've seen enough," Steve voiced the very same words which rattled inside Danny's head as he supplanted Chin. He tapped his watch to remind Danny of his promise to vacate the bunkers within five minutes, now gone too generously over that allotment. "It's time to leave, partner. Right now."

"Yeah," Danny nodded in agreement. "You're right." He'd had moments of possible clarity where he though he remembered snippets and a chaotic rush of violent events. Nonetheless, the frightening cadre of ominous shadows didn't exist here. What he'd envisioned and had become the anxious owner of in his dreams was smaller in its reality and per Chin's point, nothing more than a ruin of concrete; the bunker was entirely insignificant.

"It's … the same and yet … it's not the same at all," Danny complained as Steve physically turned him from where he'd been facing the wall. This time, he willingly sank into the refuge Steve's arm provided when he casually looped it over his shoulders. Cold again and thankful for the warmth of his friends, he was now growing more anxious to get out of the stifling depth of the tunnels.

"I thought it would mean something," Danny whispered plaintively.

"You know that I hate to admit this, but it does mean something," Steve gently argued back using Chin's words and focusing on their older friend's original theory as he purposefully placed Danny protectively between the two of them. Where he was coping with the situation, albeit angrily, he felt that Danny was on the verge of a precipice if one of them couldn't continually prove some level of value having committed to this return trip. And frankly, Chin's revelations were more than valid. While Danny had suffered through one or two painful flashbacks, there were indeed certain benefits to the old bunker system holding zero other comparisons to their abductions. While they were all under duress now, hearing his partner admit to experiencing nothing else - to truly seeing the ruin as an old pile of concrete - might very well become a balm.

"It means that this place is literally nothing to you … or to me, for that matter. There's no ghosts or secrets; no hidden traps or surprises. It's just some old remote place used by a few bad people who are no longer here, Danny," Steve repeated quietly. He glanced thankfully towards Chin, inordinately relieved for the older man's patience and incredible sense of being.

"Starting now, we're all moving on," Steve stated with an absolute finality. He purposefully tucked Danny closer to his side, shielding him as they marched past the room where he'd been abused. With an arrogant step, Steve refused to deign the room another of his own personal appraisals.

"Put this behind you now, _brah_." Chin smiled as he took Danny's opposite side. When their eyes met, weary blue to adamant brown, Chin could only shrug as he offered one final piece of advice to bolster Danny's sense of having done something constructive. "Seeing this place for what it really is will bring you some peace. I guarantee it."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	18. Chapter 18

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes:** I guess every story winds up with a bit of respite. This should have been the final chapter (I sound like a broken record to myself). But this chapter was happy 'as is'.

**Chapter Eighteen**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

On the way back to the beach, Danny was in somewhat of a daze. He'd given vague thought about his stamina, but not enough to even take himself seriously. He'd been more certain and much more focused on putting his arms around what he'd thought would provide more closure. The quality of his dodgy recovery was something Steve had stressed during one of his many argumentative points and counterpoints; even Chin had raised the issue. But Danny had wanted to go sooner rather than later, vowing that he was ready and that an intentional exposure to his demons would actually promote his healing. So, he'd pushed and his friends had grudgingly acquiesced. Now however, he was barely on his feet and determined to not be a liability or worse, a burden. Eyes tired and over-sensitive to the sunlight, he was fighting a general malaise. He glanced towards Chin, wincing and blinking at the throbbing pulse in his head, when his friend halted the progress of the small group. He followed Chin's hand skywards to the horizon where he almost stupidly stared at the dark cloud breaking up the prettier blue. Behind the deep gray, he saw flickers of lightning and heaved in a long-suffering sigh. An extended walk in the heat was soon to be a long _wet_ hike in the rain followed by something which would no doubt resemble a sauna.

Danny strayed away from the others as if to get a better look at the distant threatening sky. In reality, he had chosen to lean against the trunk of large tree. With another estimated forty minutes of traipsing through the jungle over-growth just to get to the smaller dingy which would cart them back to the larger Coast Guard vessel, the last thing his tapped out body needed was to deal with a storm. He knew that both his friends were watching him like a dual set of matched hawks, too. Each was worried in their own right about his well-being and, as his head picked up a deeper resentful throb, he knew that he'd soon prove their concern well-placed.

"So… ," Unable to hide his pained wince as he willed himself to move and amble towards Chin, Danny did manage to keep his voice steady. "I guess we need to pick up the pace?"

Oddly though it was Chin who had other ideas about needing to continue on as the sound of thunder boomed closer at a startling pace. "No, I don't think so," Chin remarked, tapping his watch and astutely gesturing towards a friendly looking copse of ferns and heavy over-growth which provided a break from the sun. "It's early and the weather's changing too quickly for us to make it comfortably in time. How about a fast bivouac until that storm blows over?" In the distance, a rumble of thunder could be heard to compliment the flashes of light and he shrugged nonchalantly when Steve raised an amused eyebrow at his use of the military slang.

"Bivouac? Good call, Chin," Steve agreed with a genuine smile finally beaming across his face. He had to laugh at himself since Chin sensed the changes much more quickly than he had. But Steve had been caught up with managing his partner. Or at least, dogging his heels every single step of the way should Danny trip or need help he'd thus far refused since leaving the bunkers and declaring himself_ 'perfectly fine, Steven'_.

The relief on Danny's face was so stridently obvious, that Steve nearly went to him in concern regardless of any earlier affirmations of being fine. Instead, he managed to hold his ground, working studiously on gauging the distant horizon. As with most days, they were due for a short afternoon thunder shower and with a circumspect sniff, he could finally smell the refreshing scent on the breeze coming off the ocean. He knew better than to say anything to Danny about how he'd been faring or draw even more attention to the grateful manner in which his friend sank down to a seated position while their ad hoc camp was laid out.

"Contact the ship and advise them that we're stopping here. Get an accurate read on the weather report," Steve said with another carefully measure look sent Danny's way to appraise him more closely. He frowned as his partner finished his canteen down to the last dregs, but waved off an energy bar, literally turning a greenish-pale hue at the prospect of food. With a firm yank, Steve disengaged his own canteen from his belt. He took a sip for show, but then purposefully plunked it into Danny's hands while retrieving the empty which he tucked back into his own pack. Before Danny could object or find a word to say of any kind, Steve simply stalked back to where the Coasties were discussing their plans.

"We good?" Steve asked, nearly too off-handedly as his ears picked up on his partner's thinly veiled comments about obnoxious, over-bearing baby-sitters. However, when the mutterings petered out, Steve knew without having to look, that Danny had sat himself down on a rock and he was now carefully nursing the contents of the second canteen.

"Yes, sir," the Coasties nodded in agreement, one causally tossing Steve a full spare canteen to replace Danny's initial empty one while his other two companions began to rapidly break out lightweight camping gear. In what seemed like seconds, the small camp was setup to provide cover from the pending rain showers.

With a dismal start, Danny realized that he never should have taken a seat on the rock. He'd zoned out and done nothing to help. Instead, he found himself blinking owlishly at the sudden arrival of a tidy campfire, three perfectly lashed tents and a small radio-like setup perched on a rocky outcropping. He was the only person not doing something to have helped, yet suddenly nothing required to be done.

"You can take this one, sir," the youngest of the three Coasties was pointing Danny towards the nearest of the tents. "Why don't you check it out and let me know if you need anything else? We're all going to take advantage of the break."

The hint was subtle for someone so young, but Danny didn't mind. Hardly able to make the four short steps to the tent's entrance, he sank down to his knees to crawl inside, now only intent on one thing: the incredible appearance of a sleeping bag. Still on his hands and knees - which he would blame on the low ceiling of the pup tent - Danny moved towards the bag, registering a neatly tossed out second before he simply collapsed on his stomach with his head pillowed on his left arm. He could hear softly voiced discussions outside, but it was relatively quiet inside the tent and he gazed stupidly at the small canteen he still gripped in his right hand. The cap was off the bottle and he should drink more or in the very least reseal it, but he never did either of those things. He should do something other than take refuge alone inside the first available tent, but that tiny prickle of guilt was his last dim feeling as his eyes peacefully closed.

"The storm's about fifteen minutes out, sir, and our plans are approved," the first Coastguardsman eventually advised Steve. He had busily radioed their ship with an updated on their position, receiving confirmation that a fast moving storm front was indeed blowing in to their area. "Reports have it moving fast and I doubt it will last longer than thirty or forty minutes with no ill effects, but who needs to get wet? Plus these paths get muddy and slippery enough without having to walk through a deluge."

"Makes sense and we have the time," Steve said, watching as his partner willingly crawled into the nearest small pup tent. Now drinking from the canteen which Steve had given him, Danny hadn't otherwise said a single word to anyone else as orders and updates were exchanged around him. Once more bone-weary, he was folding in upon himself and becoming uncharacteristically pliable. Steve shook his head and sighed as Danny's booted feet disappeared from view.

"And the supplies," the Coastie added reassuringly, re-engaging Steve's attention in order to gesture towards the tent where Danny had disappeared. "We always carry enough for at least two days … we won't be wanting for anything in the short term. We have plenty of water … and food if needed."

"The hour off will do him good, too," Steve murmured softly.

"Yes, sir," the Coastie grinned knowingly regarding the serious nature of the Five-0 team's special recon mission. He saw no reason to ask for specifics and instead, added a teasing rub of his stomach to indicate a light meal was in order. "Don't mind the rest myself."

Steve nodded in kind, a relieved smile gracing his lips. For once, the changeable Hawaiian weather was doing them all a kind favor. With six people and three tents, Chin chose short residence with one of the Coastguardsmen. Steve dove into the same tent as Danny just as the first large bullets of rain began to pelt the high canopy overhead. He turned to seal the small tent's flap against the wind and rain, pleased that he could already see the sparkle of a renewed blue sky just beyond the wall of gray clouds. The storm was truly on the move and doing them all a distinct courtesy by providing some well-deserved downtime – even if only for an hour. Especially when he looked towards his friend to find him curled on his side with his head cushioned on his forearm. The fingers of Danny's hand were loosely looped around the open canteen, but his eyes were closed despite the mounting strength of the wind which rattled the thin material of their tent and the noisy burst of rain which briefly slapped against its northern corner.

With his backpack as a pillow, Steve stretched out long and lanky along the opposite side of the tent facing his friend. He watched warily when Danny murmured something softly, his face creasing as if in pain just as his hand fisted the canteen in reaction to some unknown.

"Danny?" Steve whispered breathily, concerned that a dream or memory might already be leaking into an already fatigued brain. He waited then, a hand poised mid-flight should Danny need solace, but instead, the deep lines eased at the same time the white-knuckled grip released to fall entirely lax. A moment later, Steve had to retrieve the canteen when Danny's fingers went so limp, that the bottle nearly tipped entirely over to dump its contents.

A slow studied rush of air whistled through his pursed lips as he recapped the canteen. While Danny looked comfortable enough, Steve hadn't permitted him the added strain of carrying a pack and so, he would have shoved his own under the man's head if he hadn't crawled ahead so quickly. His partner was exhausted and utterly tapped of his final reserves of energy. However, based on the sheer lack of acknowledgement to his soft queries and the sprawled position, Steve had no doubt now that Danny had already fallen into a heavy doze and he didn't dare disturb him.

**H50 H50**

Near the bottom half of the storm just as things outside were dying down, there was a rustling sound at the entrance to the flap. Steve, who had been quietly resting, instantly startled awake. "What?" He whispered, a hand automatically straying to his sidearm. Without needing to think he inserted himself between the thin flap and his steadily sleeping friend. Then he rolled his eyes towards the roof of the tent which was scarcely an inch from his head as he rocked on the balls of his booted feet.

"As if this would work," Steve muttered sarcastically about the potential futility of defense through a few millimeters of green canvas. But someone was definitely there and his hand was already on the fastenings when he heard Chin's voice.

"Steve? It's me … open up." Chin's voice was rushed and breathless from his short dash across their small campsite.

"It's time?" Steve responded softly with a disagreeable expression lancing sharply across his face as he checked the time before opening the flap so that Chin could sneak in. Since they'd been there, Danny hadn't moved a single inch. If anything, he'd fallen into a deeper sleep completely undisturbed by the stormy sounds taken place around their flimsy abode. Almost resentfully, Steve edged towards Danny who hadn't even seen fit to respond to the brief burst of outside rain-driven air which Chin's arrival had brought. "I'll wake him."

"No, no … we've got a delay," Chin whispered as he wiped the water from his face with both hands, smoothing back his soaked hair as he studied Danny's sleeping form. "Let him sleep,' he added quietly, equally amazed that his friend hadn't budged when he'd entered the tent.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked. "What's the delay? Is the storm worsening?"

"No, not the storm. The ship haled us a few minutes ago. There's a private charter vessel in distress with five on board. They're taking on water and the Coast Guard's obligated to assist," Chin explained softly. "They'll either get back to us later this evening or worst case, by tomorrow morning. We've been asked to camp out here until they return; we've plenty of supplies, so it's not a problem. How's Danny doing?"

"He's wiped and he hasn't moved a muscle, so this is actually good. But you're using a four-letter word, Chin," Steve smirked dryly. Even though he sent up a short note of goodwill for those in trouble on the charter boat, he was tremendously relieved by the unexpected turn of events.

"What's that?" Chin grinned through his soft whispers, though he wasn't quite yet on the same page as Steve.

"Camp. Camping is definitely not on Danno's bucket list," Steve explained as he nodded contentedly towards Danny. "He'll love this when he wakes up!"

"Bivouac then," Chin countered. "How's that?"

"Nah," Steve softly argued. "This is definitely _camping_."

"It's a tent in the jungle. With rain and big bugs. So, how about you both shut up and let me sleep?" Danny mumbled without opening his eyes as he rolled determinedly over to his opposite side.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	19. Chapter 19

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes:** I've employed the new tactic of _not_ trying to make it end. LOL! So, on we go ... where to? No clue, but this is even intriguing me since I've never not posted something which became so incomplete where I have to leave "what comes next" entirely to the muse. Forever thanks to Fifilla - especially for helping validate "Steve's voice".

**Chapter Nineteen**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Once the ship radioed back that they'd return very early the next morning, that's when Steve allowed his thoughts to run amok. Thoughts that weren't precisely ... healthy. The activity had died down around their small encampment, as had the rain. Night had fallen and the skies were dark except for blackish outlines of fast moving clouds which oftentimes blocked the sliver of moon. It was different from the night he'd escaped with Danny and yet, it was entirely the same.

Steve lay on his back staring at the low roof of their makeshift, temporary home. Across the small clearing, he could hear the occasional murmur of soft speech. The others were drowsily awake, dozing or sleeping even as they enjoyed the brief downtime. He, though, was distracted despite feeling tired enough to fall asleep. He was utterly drained of every ounce of energy and could barely think straight, but he didn't want to sleep. The irony of that made him chuff a disgusted sound deeply in his throat.

Sleep or not sleep? Always an easy choice if one had that luxury. With a weary groan, he heaved himself onto his elbow to check on Danny who hadn't moved since grumbling about wanting quiet if he was going to be stuck for the coming short term duration. Steve couldn't see his face though because Danny was on his side and turned away towards the outside tent wall. The only view which Steve had was of a t-shirt clad shoulder slowly rising and falling in an even cadence. Things appeared to be fine. Even peaceful, but Steve had learned not to trust and to certainly never assume especially as the initial three-hour period of possible REM began. For whatever reason, these first few hours were always when Danny's nightmares deigned to resurface. They were the same hours where Steve had learned to become much more tense and watchful. So not trusting his ability to truly relax, Steve remained ever more vigilant as the minutes dragged by with an interminable sluggish plod.

They had come full circle and Steve found the realization rather startling, as well as a source of major anguish. He wasn't quite sure how close they were at that very moment to where he'd hidden Danny that terrible night and quite frankly, knowing that exact position wasn't all that important. Back then, Danny had been in dire straits. Steve had been desperate for help; any kind of help knowing that the struggle to keep Danny alive and breathing had only just begun. But so many days later, returning to the proverbial scene of the crime hadn't been even remotely on his radar.

"I hope this was worth it," Steve whispered as he gave up his stare to thump softly onto his back. There was no way this one time visit would be a cure-all. So, Steve was still worried and extremely unsettled as he checked his watch. But he blamed the latter feeling more on their uncomfortable aspect of their small camp and his own memories which were being dredged up for him to rehash. He shook his head as he failed to compartmentalize almost everything which had happened. He could still feel every footfall of his escape as he carried Danny along with him. Yet those memories were by far, not the worst. What superseded Steve's fight to manage their escape wasn't even on his radar by that very night. What he could never be able to fully forget or rationalize was Danny's inability to string two simple words together. His normally gregarious friend had nearly been destroyed through well-orchestrated torture techniques whose end results had created nothing more than a terrified, incoherent shell. And now, Steve was still very worried about what might come next.

"Damn it, Danny," Steve complained, unable to let anything go and visibly shuddering in response to remembered agonizing moans. Danny had been so helplessly _loud_; incredibly manic and beyond his reach. Steve inwardly flinched as he flung his arm over his face, muting the dim light from the small battery operated lamp which he'd propped handily in the corner of the tent.

"You didn't even know me," he whispered. Danny hadn't known himself, either. For all intents, Danny had been completely torn down and beyond the ability to reason or care. What Steve added in his mind was that the doctors hadn't offered any initial reassurances about it not being too late for Danny to even recover. They hadn't _known_ ... a battalion of supposedly astute and well-learned medical doctors simply hadn't witnessed such a raw example of pure unadulterated sleep deprivation doled out as an intentional torture.

"You didn't sign up for this," Steve muttered up into the damp air. He shook his head again, at a complete loss of what to do or even think. Danny was a _cop_ ... dealing with rogue mercenaries for hire should have been well out of his daily range of interactions. Hell, even out of his entire life-time of simply _being_.

Five-0 had been called in as ancillary support though and they'd all willingly gone. The dual abductions were technically not his fault based on the complexity of the case and inherent hazards of the protective detail, nor the dangers of the lobbied threats against their charge. They'd all been briefed and each had agreed to the stakes. Nonetheless, at the end of each and every day, Steve was his team's leader so those plain facts about their mission changed very little in that regard. No matter the particulars, what happened to any one of his people during their mission was entirely his responsibility. It didn't change that understanding what might or might not come next when it came to Danny's recovery was still a relative unknown.

"I'm sorry this happened. And I'm so sorry that it happened, like this," he groused quietly to himself. Steve felt himself tensing when he accidentally conjured the leader's face in his mind. The laughing sneer had been complimented by a pair of evil dark eyes. Those same eyes had tormented Danny time and again; and still did as he garnered nightmare after nightmare. The mercenary had enjoyed his job; he'd relished his own brand of brutality which had escalated exponentially to prove a very particular point to Steve.

_"I know you."_ The offense of that statement still rankled Steve deeply. But what the mercenary meant more was that he knew leaders such as Steve. He knew their weakest spots because they couldn't have been less similar._ "I know you like I know myself."_

What the mercenary knew was that this other leader - his adversary - cared for his people; that he would care so very much about the man he held so tightly within the recesses of the bunkers.

The point had indeed been sound. The mercenary had glibly proved it over and over by attacking the detective in order to test the Five-0 commander's strength and to confirm his ultimate breaking point for that final salvo. Ergo, and Steve snorted softly at his spontaneous use of the word, what had happened to torment them both was indeed, his responsibility.

"And he was right," Steve softly mouthed into the dark. He'd lost too many good friends in his life, yet this would have been achingly different. The thoughts of what had been done to Danny and how he'd found him that last night were still enough to bring a sharp sting to his eyes. Memories of Danny's weak struggles and low moans of confused pain made Steve palm his face roughly. The tremors and feral desperation to escape from the horrors of more mistreatment had left Steve with nothing to do to help, and it had almost been too late.

_"You need a different brand of motivation." _The threat had been real and Steve inhaled sharply at the loud echo in his head, moving his arm in reaction to the memory while his eyes flew open to stare blindly upwards. It took a long moment for his composure to settle and as he quieted, he realized that all sounds, except for the occasional nocturnal insect or bird, had also ceased. Everyone was sleeping except for himself, but he couldn't stop from dwelling on nearly losing Danny and wondering if this current venture had truly helped.

_"How much more do you think he can take, Commander?"_

"I would have had nothing left," Steve whispered in a miserable tone, now brooding on the worst possible scenarios. He'd clearly been affected by mistreatment of one of his own and the struggle to remain silent had almost become insurmountable despite his training because _this was Danny_. And if not for their eventual overt arrogance which had setup their downfall, Steve had known he'd limited time to make what would have been a distinct _lose:lose_ decision.

_"How much more do you think he can take?"_

The psychological and physical trauma had been doled out with an insane level of methodical skill and Danny had been close to a point of no return. Not so oddly, it would have also been Steve's.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

He wasn't sure what woken him, but he sensed that he was alone in the tent. It was then that he realized that he hadn't truly been _alone_ in any one room in days. Not since before the abductions, nor before the nightmare which had become his immediate and very disconcerting reality. The difference was startling and Danny wound up only listening without opening his eyes. Though he felt the emptiness inside the tent, he knew that he wasn't ever truly alone. A peaceful murmur of voices, laughter, then a distinct undertone of a more serious voice easily reached his ears. One lower voice, much more formal in its speech was also recognizable and Danny identified it as that of the young Coastie Guardsman who was apparently speaking to their vessel. There was a pause in the flow of voices and Danny drifted for a moment, eyes still closed and breathing in deeply in an attempt to center himself.

He could still smell the aftermath of the downpour then. Clean, earthy scents which were soothing despite the gloom of the tent when he finally opened his eyes on his next deep inhale and saw the plain green canvas wall a few inches from his nose. The material was resentfully moving with a restrictive short snap from stronger breezes which complimented the sound of leaves rustling outside and Danny found himself feeling equally irritated.

He frowned despite the other outward calm around him, his eyes focusing more as his brain caught up to a two key truths. It was very dark outside. Night had clearly fallen and yet, no one had woken him to leave so they were apparently stranded for the immediate duration. He'd slept for a solid block of time, too. Not necessarily without disturbing dreams, since he easily recalled dark snippets of eerie shadows. But the blackish shapes had moved on, morphing to evaporate or leak away without explanation. The nightmares had touched him teasingly. They'd gone right through him as if ethers from a ghost and oddly ... moved on merely to be replaced by more nebulous images. Nonetheless, he'd still managed to _sleep_ through their odd turmoil. They were so vague and wispy in their essence, he hadn't felt the over-riding need to wake fully or bother to identify their frightening sources. Yet his brain had stayed confusingly busy and now, he felt off his game and deeply uncomfortable as he gained more awareness.

Instead of getting up, Danny hunkered further down on his side, burrowing into the dismal fluff of the sleeping bag. He pictured the bunkers and retraced the steps from where he lay to where they stood so starkly black in the middle of the jungle. Why had he insisted so on coming back? The ancient complex was there as if it were a living, breathing _thing_ and he could sense its closeness. The illogical thought that it was watching, taunted his subconscious and Danny heaved in a shuddered breath to dispel the weird sensation when the hum of voices increased outside. Yet he didn't feel like company or even like joining the small group. He wanted to go home. _Alone_. He wanted to be completely by himself without needing to talk to anyone or be the victim of their concern. Danny winced when he heard Steve's deeper baritone over the rest and didn't quite know why he suddenly didn't want any part of anyone's companionship. As the sounds of soft conversation continued, he realized that wasn't quite right, either. What he felt upon waking was a disconnection from a usual normal whole sparking an anxiety he couldn't quite place.

Danny swallowed hard against a tightness in his throat which brought on a brief sensation of nausea. The bunkers threatened from somewhere behind him in the pitch of the jungle. He envisioned them glaring maliciously down on the small encampment and he closed his eyes to refocus on the voices outside, now purposefully seeking Steve's in particular.

"He's _still_ sleeping." Steve's words clearly reached Danny through the tent wall. "I'll check on him in a minute."

Danny knew then he must have slept for hours based on his friend's semi-amused tone. Another portion of that coy inflection also communicated no small dose of being relieved on his behalf. The realization irked Danny more so from his new feelings of unease which bordered on embarrassment. But he had no time to dwell on his fickle mood or the odd thud of his heart as the tent flap moved and a cooler influx of air swirled in from the outside along with the scent of burning wood.

"Hey," Steve's soft query was just over his shoulder. "Danny?"

"M_'up_," Danny mumbled, surprised that his own voice sounded so very raspy. He rolled over with a resentful twinge, releasing some of the cozy warmth eking into his shoulder from the sleeping bag. He blinked in the dim light, just able to make out Steve's face and the very pleased expression. A pleasure which he didn't automatically return as the cooler air latched onto his sweat-dampened shirt.

"Come on and get something to eat," Steve grinned happily. He'd fallen asleep after a time, waking as he sensed activity outside. Danny had still been sleeping, so Steve had snuck out for a short respite. The small group had roused one at a time confirming news that the ship would be returning within two to three hours for their retrieval. The timing would be just at dawn's first light and his grin deepened now that Danny had woken. They'd soon be on their way and far away from the bunkers.

"Nothing fancy in the way of food ... but it's decent enough. We're gong to have to pack up in a bit and get down to the beach," Steve added. "Come on ... you've got to be famished by now."

Danny made an odd face though, something bordering on reluctance or even distaste, and Steve instantly lost the smile. The frown altered his eyes thoughtfully as he studied his friend's generally tense demeanor. Despite having slept, Danny's complexion looked wan and he could see the drawn thinness through his cheekbones caused by an inconsistent diet and ongoing strain.

"You need to eat, Danno. What's wrong?" Steve carefully asked. He completely entered the tent at that point, hunkering down low to get a better read on what might be bothering his friend. He was positive that Danny had slept mostly undisturbed for a respectable period of time. Yet, something wasn't right as Danny seemed to completely shut down and made no effort to move. "Hey? Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing," Danny muttered moodily though the barrage of concerned questions. Other than the pinched lines across his brow and rough tone, Danny's face was closed off, nearly unreadable. It was obvious that the didn't want to talk as a certain darkness crept into his eyes. "I'm fine ... just ...not hungry."

"Nightmares? Did you remember something ... is there anything you want to talk about?" Steve pushed regardless of the unanticipated icy reception. His natural tendency of late was to go directly to the source of the issue and, though Danny had seemed peaceful, the temperamental mood indicated bad dreams or even worse memories. Steve's lips thinned in worry as Danny woke contrary to what had seemed a sound rest, because he certainly hadn't anticipated the acid-tongued reply.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I said ... no," Danny hissed harshly though his teeth, failing at catching the annoyance which suddenly riddled his tone. "I don't want to talk. I'm tired of _talking_." An erratic throb pounded in his neck and he blinked crazily though a haze-inducing dizzy spell. He was really _tired_ of being so very bone-weary. He was _tired_ of not feeling like himself and actingh like a stranger trapped at watching a normal world go by. And now he was stuck wondering if this return to the bunkers had been of any value at all, because every doubt he'd ever had was now beating a path to his doorstep.

"Leave me alone," Danny whispered vehemently. He swallowed convulsively to beat back the rise of nausea which threatened more strongly even after some of the grayish haze lifted from his periphery. He forced himself to recover, his voice gaining a bit more strength even if it lacked any real heat. "I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me, Steve. I'm _fine_ ... and just want to be alone. Why can't you leave me alone?"

Breathing heavily, Danny pushed the muzziness away, feeling off-kilter and as if he wasn't even in his own body. He couldn't prevent those last words from spilling from his mouth and he was instantly sorry when he saw the confusion streak across Steve's face. He'd woken out of sorts and in an anxious mood which he couldn't quite explain. Sweat now beaded on his neck to roll down into his t-shirt and more pooled at the base of his back creating a sickly chill. He grimaced, failing at offering even a half-smile to put Steve at ease as his friend literally stiffened in surprise at the strange verbal attack.

"Danny?" Steve reeled backwards a mental step. His friend was light years from being okay. Instead, Steve scowled and cocked his head, refusing to engage in the surge of anger while he cataloged the subtle muscular tremble and tremulous swallows. "Leave you alone? What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere, Danno, and you don't really mean that; I know you don't. The last thing you want - and need - is to be left alone."

"No, I _know_. Please ... just wait. Listen, I'm sorry," Danny said, stammering over his tongue. He rubbed his eyes and then used the back of his hand to wipe a band of sweat off his upper lip as he rolled awkwardly to his knees. "I don't know why I said that. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sorry."

A strange uncomfortable giggle burbled in his chest and he fought it at first, yet it finally broke free. With an effort, Danny squashed the short piercing sound by rending the front of his shirt with one hand as the other flapped uselessly between them. It was a weak manner of apology and he stayed on his knees, slope-shouldered and falling in upon himself when Steve grabbed his wildly moving fingers as they dared stray towards his hair.

"Stop," Steve demanded, a moment of fear pinging hard in his chest at the odd reflexive habit. With a firm tug, his fingers wended through Danny's to bring them down where he held on tightly. "_Stop_. Calm down. You're not making any sense."

"I'm sorry," Danny whispered again. His hand was ice cold within Steve's warmer one and only then did he realize that he was quaking on the inside. He chuffed in self-disgust as he realized what was happening when a weird heaviness seemed to settle inside his lungs. He coughed again in reaction, unable to physically draw in a true tendril of air through a throat which felt as if it had been seared shut.

"Breathe slower," Steve softly chanted. "Slower ... concentrate on just breathing for a minute."

"Helluva time ... for a panic attack, huh? After the fact? Who ... does that?" Danny wheezed painfully as he knuckled his own sternum in a vain attempt to release the balled-up tension. He blinked in disbelief when reactive tears began to stream from his eyes from breath which caught sharply in his throat. He couldn't breathe properly and his voice quavered raspily through each strangled whistle. "It is, right? That ... that's ... what this ... is?"

"What's wrong, Danno?" Steve asked quietly. He was undeniably worried now, but hiding it fairly well. His voice remained steady enough but his eyes belied the truth as they took on a black, glassy look. "What the hell happened?" The quip had been said partially in jest, yet his partner was dead-on to the truth because he was well on his way to having a severe panic attack.

"Slow down," Steve whispered urgently as he grappled for Danny's hand which he almost lost, winning a tighter hold when his friend wavered dizzily. His other hand found the nape of Danny's neck to offer more support, but Steve was shocked by the heated sweat he connected with instead. "Hey, hey, hey ... calm the hell down. Seriously. Take a deep breath and settle. Then, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing. Everything," Danny mumbled as he offered Steve a lame shrug of apology, the strange giggle quaffed by a sharp cough when he couldn't inhale enough air. Seconds later though, he was shaking his head in bewilderment and stammering sharply over broken words which barely brought Steve up-to-speed. "Honestly, I ... don't know. I woke up and thought everything ... was mostly fine. Until ... I couldn't stop thinking about ... the bunkers and what ... _they_ did. But I don't ... know what I want ... or ... don't want ... I dragged you back here. I _made_ you come back. For what? And now ... I feel like my heart's ... going to pound right out of my chest."

"Danny, please. You have to slow it down," Steve coached. "You're okay and everything's fine ... we're going home."

"It's insane, right? This whole thing out here? Making you come all the way back out ... here ... to this stupid place? And for what exactly?" Danny heaved in a whistling breath of air. He choked on a thin exhale which caused his cheeks to pink oddly as a bead of sweat simultaneously trickled almost rudely down one side of his face. "Maybe ... maybe ... I'm going crazy, huh?"

He tried to smile at the poorness of his joke, but the faint quirk of his lips looked sickly in the half-light. "What ... else could I be ... but going a little crazy, right?"

"No," Steve objected instantly, his face darkened in anger at the same time his fingers drilled warningly into the flesh of Danny's hand, the unexpected crippling pain making his friend rock unsteadily in place. Danny's eyes met his, pale and sickly in the light; entirely too uncertain and diminished of life for Steve's liking.

"Listen up and listen good," Steve whispered as his free hand fisted the damp neck of Danny's t-shirt before he gave him a not-so-gentle shake. "No, Danny. No, you're definitely not crazy. Not by a long shot; but you _are_ pushing way too hard, buddy. You're trying too hard to get over this last hurdle and you need to give yourself a break. I know that I was against all of this in the beginning, but coming back here was a good idea. Now you've done what you needed to do and it's time to go home. Together."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	20. Chapter 20

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: ** this is probably THE END. However, it's not yet marked as Complete since the muse feels an Epilogue on the near horizon.

**Chapter Twenty**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

He didn't speak much on the way back. It was safer that way. Easier to stay quiet, ignore everyone and focus on simply putting one foot in front of the other as quickly as possible to escape the gloom of the jungle. Every step brought him closer to the beach and a much brighter light as the tangled depths of trees and vines gave way to white and blue.

Prior to completely breaking the small camp down, Steve had virtually forced food into his mouth, ignoring the way he'd tried to object. Completely disregarding the way he'd tried to blame his inability to eat on the way his throat had hitched around the tasteless protein bars. And yes, there had been more than one tossed into his lap. In reply to his objections, Steve had chosen only to shove a full canteen into his hand with orders to wash down whatever he'd managed to chew. The ritual had been enforced within the privacy of their own, small tent and Danny had resented every single minute of it, even though he recognized its necessity.

_"It's going to take time to get to the beach and your body needs to eat whether you think so or not,"_ Steve reasoned._ "I want you to eat all of that and drink as much water as you can." _

Besides lack of a decent meal, Steve's other rationale for the panic attack included something which Danny didn't quite buy. Though once Steve mentioned the lack of predictable classical music in place of the island's more natural wild sounds, he realized that he did in fact miss the soothing background melodies. So even though he wasn't entirely convinced and thought that Steve might only be trying to make him feel better, Danny listened enough to consider the possibility that his friend might be right.

_"It's too loud out here for you, in all the wrong ways," S_teve had insisted he was right about the theory. _"Insects ... nocturnal birds ... you hate this at the best of times, Danno, and I don't want you to take what I'm saying and turn it around to mean something bad. I'm not judging or being critical ... I'm only offering you an idea for why you feel so ... off ... so unable to focus. We've been out here long enough and you need something more ... familiar. More ... you."_

Now, as they stood together on the beach waiting to be retrieved, Danny felt Steve standing directly behind him. He'd calmed significantly, but that still wasn't good enough for his partner. Though the panic attack had eased along with most of his feelings of being not quite one with the world, for some reason Steve remained continually stressed, and Danny wasn't entirely sure as to why. Maybe Steve knew that Danny still felt a bit off ... actually, more as if he were going just a bit _crazy_ as he had so ineloquently described himself. Regardless of what he now sensed, Danny still didn't feel like asking because he instinctively knew any questions would lead into a deeper debate around his own feelings and issues. Of which, he simply had no energy to cope with.

"Ready?" Steve's voice breathed in Danny's ear. "How're you holding up?"

There was no response to either softly voiced question and Steve shifted his stance so that he could casually rest his forearms on Danny's shoulders while they waited for the Coasties' to ready the smaller boat. The intentional move was his covert way of checking Danny's overall well-being and Steve stifled his scowl when his friend weakly wavered in place under his relatively mild touch.

"They're almost here. Do you need anything? Water ... are you thirsty?" Steve pressed. They could already see the larger ship gaining on their location and they'd be off the beach within a matter of minutes. Steve fidgeted again in his impatience while standing behind his friend, appearing to nonchalantly lounge on the shorter man's shoulders. His hands hung loosely, draped over Danny's chest and they were quiet until he began to clench and unclench his fingers.

He was watchful. Watchful, forever worried, and very much on guard. All of which, Danny was noticing with more and more clarity.

"You good?" Steve whispered again, pushing for any kind of acknowledgement, his head cocked far enough to the right in order to see just the outline of Danny's face.

"Hey? Do you need anything?" He frowned though when he saw his own hands so tightly wadded into fists and with an impatient sigh against his own anxieties, relaxed his fingers before turning his full attention back towards his partner. "Danny? Are you listening to me at all?"

"Shut up, Steven," Danny murmured impassively as he watched the long fingers flex and unfurl out of the corner of his eyes. He waited the breadth of another heartbeat while he somewhat stoically absorbed more of Steve's weight and heard the aggrieved dramatic sigh before chuffing an understanding sound just under his breath. Steve wasn't going to let anything go with him, no matter how small.

"Yeah ... sorry," Danny said, while shaking his head with an almost tolerant expression as he revised his statement. "I hear you ... and I'm fine. I'm okay."

"Just asking," Steve said glibly, the partial grin not even close to touching the look in his eyes which remained dark and concerned. He knew that he was bothering his friend to no end. He couldn't stop though because Danny was simply too withdrawn.

"What?" Steve sighed again as Danny mumbled something much too low to hear. A something which sounded suspiciously annoyed and maybe even slightly ... patronizing. "What's wrong? I can't even ask?"

Beneath the comforting weight of Steve's arms, Danny didn't turn around or even move a single muscle. In fact, he seemed to be barely breathing as he chose not to say more and rather, studied the reddish hues of the rising sun. To their right, Chin stood calmly by offering an additional buffer of support even though Danny had regained control before they'd even left their small encampment for the beach. Despite his almost frenetic request to be left alone, followed by the subsequent apology and concerted effort to obtain his normal composure, both of his friends had seen fit to do the exact opposite. Chin had become a diligent shadow, ensuring that Danny lacked for nothing. Steve, though, had been in lock-step and evidently intended to remain as such for the foreseeable future. His friend had been nothing shy of obsessive, forcing Danny to simply accept the attention and analyze it astonishingly enough as ... guilt. Therefore, part of his current pensive brooding, which made him so unnaturally quiet, also had to do with considering the reasons behind Steve's potential feelings.

"It's pretty." Danny chose to modify the subject entirely as he noted the ever-changing horizon which seemed to morph like a chameleon from a deep-blackish red, to a soft pinkish-mauve color as the sun rose higher. He squinted briefly as the light intensified, relieved that he didn't have to deal with the over-shadowed growth of the jungle despite its cooler temperature.

"That it is," Chin agreed with a coy grin aimed Steve's way for what Danny had just accomplished with two tiny words. Yet he too fell silent as they were motioned to begin boarding the small boat in order to leave. None of the three had looked back once they'd begun this final leg of the journey and each refused to glance backwards towards the jungle now.

The unspoken agreement to avoid what they were leaving behind continued onboard the larger ship even after the beach had long disappeared. Chin decided to stay up top for the ride home, but true to form, Steve followed Danny down to the inner salon and onto the small mess hall. Steve was surprised by the choice for the relative size of the room, but he said nothing as Danny chose a table along the port-side wall and slid down its hard bench seat.

Steve made an unhappy face when Danny continued his adopted mode of being silent only to slouch wearily down with his eyes closed. It took a minute longer, but his head eventually found its way back to rest against the wall where only the faint roll of the ship moved his lax body. Moments later, his upper half wilted even more and Steve knew that he'd begun to doze, something which surprised him no end regardless of their exhausting journey. But then Steve heard it or rather, he felt the repetitive vibration through to his bones. The mechanical thrum of the boat's heavy engines was precisely what Danny was choosing to focus on, and with that realization, Steve blatantly relaxed in kind.

"_Of course,_" Steve mouthed barely above a murmur as he studied his friend's much calmer look. His resultant smile was lop-sided and approving as he stretched his legs out long under the table. Ankles crossed and arms folded loosely over his chest, Steve sucked in a careful and studious breath to fill his lungs and closed his eyes, too.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Danny welcomed the boat's deepening vibration, sighing in relief as the strength of its escalation pounded rhythmically through his body. They were leaving and by each nautical mile, they were leaving the horrors of their abduction well behind. For the hundredth time since his unexpected panic attack, Danny wondered about the intelligence of his decision to return. Steve had been dead set against it and now, he swore the decision was sound. It was almost interesting how their roles and individual opinions had reversed so drastically. With his eyes closed and the comforting white noise enveloping him like a cocoon, Danny vaguely began to consider the reasons behind Steve's feelings of guilt. But that didn't last long as the loud hum sucked his tired brain down to doze and then to actually sleep with a vengeance which slowly began to lack peace.

_"You closed your eyes, Detective. That's ... not allowed ... not permitted."_

Danny jolted in response to that internal threat, a painful trill rippling through his body hard enough for his knee to unconsciously slam into Steve's. His face creased in a remembered pain and he muttered incoherently, panting erratically as if what he was dreaming might truly be happening.

Because he was indeed running. _He was running down in the bunkers. Forever stumbling and staggering, hitting first one wall and then the other, as jeers and taunts bellowed in his ears._

This time though, Danny knew that he was dreaming. He _KNEW_ that what he saw wasn't real and he desperately wanted to wake up ... he demanded that he open his eyes and wake up ... yet, he couldn't. Behind his lids, his eyes rolled frantically as an internal war was waged for him to wake. Nonetheless, the dream state was inescapable _as the evil of twin, black shining eyes peered nastily into his own._

_"Where do you think you're going?" A shout strangled__ in his throat when he felt its touch. The cold hand that grasped his throat to squeeze. Harder, stronger. Relentlessly. Then the fingers were gone, but only for a moment as the bunkers solidified into plain stone and ashen rock. As the rooms and tunnels took shape, Danny stopped running, breathing hard but confused by where he found himself. Confused that he was now entirely alone until he felt another icy breeze brush by his shoulder._

_"Who's there? Who is it?" He asked hesitantly, his hand straying towards a gun that miraculously appeared at his side and within its usual holster. _

_"Steve!" He gasped as the tunnels wavered and then disappeared entirely, plunging him into sheer blackness. Out of reflex, Danny swung his gun wildly from left to right, eyes wide in the dark as if he could see the pending storm. "Steve!"_

"Steve!" Danny moaned softly, stunned and frightened when he felt the long fingers touch him. Ice became heat which spread warningly through his shoulder and only then did Danny wake with a startled shout, to find Steve inches from his face. His hand was braced against Danny's shoulder, not only to soothe, but to offer a brace as he slid sideways.

"Danny? It's me ... only me ... you were dreaming," Steve explained quietly. "You were calling out ... but I couldn't wake you up for a minute. Are you alright? What was it?"

"I ... it's ... nothing," Danny said, blinking wildly in the fluorescent light of the small mess hall as he tried to center himself in the here and now. He heaved in a shuddered breath of air, staring almost blankly into Steve's worried eyes as residual stray feelings of unease flittered away. It was a dream. It really had been a dream and he shuddered again as Steve's warmer fingers bore heat into his skin to displace a remembered bitter chill.

"I ... _uh_ ... I'm okay. Really. It's gone," he whispered around a lame excuse for an attempt at a smile. He rubbed his face hard when the memory of black, sparkling eyes flittered through his mind, his hand battling the thick tangles in his hair as snippets of the dream began to dissipate. "It was ... nothing."

"Right. Nothing." Steve chuffed out a sound that could only be described as abject disgust. His eyes narrowed though as he suspiciously watched Danny's hand; the one that was seemingly stuck in his hair. He watched and stayed resolutely silent until the fingers untangled on their own and Danny tiredly dropped his hand into his lap. "That was hardly _nothing_, Danno. Tell me about it."

However, Danny merely shook his head to decline a pending argument before Steve could make any further demands, a twinge of annoyance rippling through his already shaky mood when Steve frowned unhappily. To his credit though, Steve managed to hold his tongue, biding his time for him to feel like talking - if he ever wanted to. But Steve wouldn't leave ... he refused to widen the bubble of what should have been Danny's personal space.

"You don't have to do this you know," Danny finally said after his heart found a normal cadence. One hand waved between them as he stared at the aged and scuffed table-top before dropping his gaze to a worn section of wooden flooring. A tiny smile floated across his lips as he once again attempted a joke which had been an epic fail the first time. By the sheer lack of response and subtle change in atmosphere, he wasn't faring much better on this second attempt. "I'm fine. Really ... except for ... well, you know. That _crazy_ partner thing."

At first, Steve only shrugged as way of reply. If Danny had bothered to look up, he'd see the ominous look because Steve had zero intention of doing anything less than what he'd initiated since Danny's meltdown. He also wholly resented Danny's ongoing attempts to make light of something so very serious and that dark expression said as much.

"Don't bring that up again," Steve said with a sudden intensity. "It's not up for discussion." His statement was relatively quiet but his voice was cracked, nearly broken. So it was the tone and not the words which made Danny's face seem to go to pale while his eyes guiltily bore holes into the ship's floor only two inches in front of his feet. The two were quiet for a long time, neither saying a single word as they considered each other.

"None of this was your fault," Danny blurted unexpectedly. "You can try to blame yourself all you want; but what happened isn't your fault. And don't you dare try to deny that you feel that way because I know exactly where that Smooth-Dog head of yours has gone ... and I'm telling you right now, that what happened to me ... is not your fault."

The volume of noise inside the Coast Guard vessel was fairly significant. From the natural creaks and groans, to the near deafening mechanical sounds of the large boat itself. Over-riding all was the volume of dozens of voices talking, laughing, or shouting orders from every imaginable direction, yet the resulting silence between the two friends was absolutely deafening. It was the only proof which Danny required to validate what he'd just said and he couldn't help the knowing smirk which played across his lips.

"Gotcha," Danny whispered while glancing up to meet Steve's brooding expression from where he'd been staring steadfast at one of his booted feet. It had taken him much longer than he'd normally need to put a name to Steve's feelings. He could only blame his slow brain function on being so very ... fatigued. Something which he didn't even care to admit to himself. But his own theory about Steve's guilt was so simplistic, he knew that he had to be right. However, if Danny felt like challenging the man even more, he'd currently be mocking the visual cringe which now ricocheted across Steve's face. Danny wasn't in the mood though. He was bone-weary and lacked the energy to do anything except state the truth, and even that had to be pushed out of his mouth with a singular mammoth effort.

"What?" Steve replied almost angrily at the direction which Danny seemed to be taking his own newest opinions. "This isn't about me ... this is about you and what happened out here ... to you. I want you to get well ... I want you feel like you beat this thing and know that what you're feeling is normal and not crazy. I want you to be able to put what they did behind you as ancient history, so that you can be done with it all, Danno. But me? No, I'm fine and none of this is about me."

"Really? Are you seriously going to try and say that ... because what happened is about you as much as it is about me. So if you want _me_ to stop saying that I'm crazy, then I want the same out of you, Steven. I get the leader thing ... I totally understand your penchant to own everything and be in control. Even the bad stuff. I get that it's you, part of your SEAL school training, or whatever the hell you want to call it when you neanderthal Navy-types insist upon going down with the ship." Danny's hand was waving between them again. The motion was slower and weary in its action, yet it was simultaneously belligerent in its determination.

"Danny," Steve breathed out softly, his head shaking in objection. "You didn't deserve this ... they used you to get at me ... _because_ of me. Because of who I am - my background and training."

"And still, you didn't tell them anything. You didn't give them what they wanted because of that training and now, you feel guilty. _Ergo_, what happened out here ... what happened to me ... is by default, also about you. It's about you because you feel responsible, Steven," Danny gently scoffed while he grinned at Steve's shocked expression. He'd worked himself into a checkmate by trying to use his own counter-argument and hadn't even realized it. Despite that, forcing Steve to change his beliefs and the very core of his heart was an impossibility. Danny knew that too, but he'd at least try to put his friend at ease.

"Besides that other leader stuff which has been beaten into your psyche, you blaming yourself for what goes wrong is so inherently ... _you_," he said softly. "It's the way you've been wired since birth ... or maybe since Doris dropped you on that thick skull of yours ... but, what happened and what they did to me, is not on you. It's not, Steve. It can't be ...," and Danny paused intentionally to inhale a studied breath of air, his stare now aimed directly into Steve's eyes. "It can't be, because the only way to fix this ... _issue_ of yours where you blame yourself ... would be for one of us to walk away from Five-0. Or, better yet, for each of us to get new partners."

"That's a damned ridiculous thing to say," Steve jolted in shock at Danny's purposefully wry comment. "New partners? And why is this suddenly _my_ issue?"

"Because I don't blame you at all, Steve, " Danny chided back. "You can't fix me. But if I realized anything, it's that I can't do this alone. I need help and you can help me ... you have been helping me all along. So why can't you please just_ help me_ without blaming yourself every five seconds? I can't have you blaming yourself like this. That's all I want ... just do what you're doing even if I scream my head off and say stupid things."

"You just said a stupid thing," Steve snarked back, though a smile was beginning to tease one side of his mouth. He'd entirely missed this about Danny; the larger than life gestures, the oftentimes nonsensical rants which oddly always made sense by the final word and ... most of all, how he'd neatly be wrapped up in a verbal ball by the time that last syllable dropped between them.

"In fact, you say stupid things all the time, Danno. How the hell am I supposed to know the difference? And besides, _Doris_ never dropped me on my head," Steve insisted as his lop-sided grin grew.

"She'll have to prove that one to me," Danny swore softly as he ruefully shook his head in mock dismay. But for the first time in too many days, his eyes were finally getting back a true flicker of his old humor. "Why are you such a putz? Why ever do I put up with you every minute of every, single day?"

"Putz?" Steve snorted loudly, an eyebrow quirking upwards in amusement. "That's a term of endearment coming from you, Danno."

"No, far from it. I hate you ... totally," Danny replied, a genuine smile finally breaking free as he rocked into Steve's shoulder. "Neanderthal ..._putz_."

"Love you, too, Danno."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	21. Chapter 21

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **yay, it's done! I have to admit that I NEVER EVER thought this story would end. I was quite concerned - lesson learned: trust the muse. I must admit that I am quite pleased with the muse right now.

**Chapter Twenty-one: EPILOGUE**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Danny heaved in a huge breath of the crisp night air, letting it slowly leave his body as a disgusted long sigh. He was sitting inside his parked Camaro in Steve's driveway just staring up at the silent behemoth of a house. There were no lights on at all at three-thirty in the morning and his friend was likely sound asleep. Danny however, was not. Instead, he was reluctantly wide awake and arguing his body's fickle needs that seemed to be changing on a daily basis.

But Danny had made a deal with Steve and at that very moment, he was fulfilling his part of it.

Their eventual deal had been very simple; in fact, it wasn't even really a deal at all, but more of an understanding. As time went on, Danny insisted that he needed more personal space and Steve grudgingly agreed that he should return to his own place. Danny felt that he needed to test his ability to make it through a night - or even a day - on his own and without having constant help. The discussions coincided with his limited return to work, which supported his theory, too. He was of course correct on all counts, but there were times when he would be wrong and therefore, the bargain was struck.

During that first week, Danny's return to work was strictly limited to mostly desk duty. Something he initially balked at until Steve invoked his rights under the structure of said deal. His nod towards Chin as witness was irksome at best, yet Danny had indeed agreed to each and every stipulation.

_"You specifically agreed that you'd listen to my instructions,"_ Steve stated, grinning as he used one of Danny's favorite words to drive his point home. _"Ergo, desk duty and half days for this coming week. You're to leave earlier for any reason under which I see fit to send you packing."_

The other part of their deal was much more private in function and only shared between the two of them. Danny had just stepped foot in his own home a few days earlier. His confidence had grown over those last many evenings, but there had been _episodes _and indications of a new problem. This problem was something which neither Steve nor Danny had considered and it brought with it a budding fear.

This new issue was something which the doctors hadn't brought up either until he had mentioned it during this last checkup: insomnia. Their medical course of action included sleep-aids which Danny kept near his bedside table, but generally he hesitated to use medication as an option towards healing. Therefore, the only subsequent suggestion was to continue periods of light exercise to encourage his body towards more normalcy.

But it was a terrible juxtaposition for him. No longer afraid to sleep, now Danny had a one or two bouts of absolute sleeplessness where he'd begun to feel an anxiety each evening that he might _not_. So this other part of the deal was duly established and noted. Steve was not enthusiastic about Danny driving if emotionally distressed, he also didn't approve of Danny driving if restless and disturbed by a period of insomnia.

_"If you have another panic attack or nightmare, your judgement is going to be off, Danno,"_ Steve said privately to his best friend. _"I can't force you to stay with me. I can't take your keys and leave you completely housebound because it's counter-productive. And I agree that you need to be at your own place. But please, you have to promise me that you won't drive ... you'll call me no matter the time."_

_"But if I just can't sleep ...,"_ Danny frowned at the disturbing thought. He had another _crazy_ symptom to contend with and his shoulders had sagged in near defeat. _"I need to get out ... clear my head ... driving helps. Maybe even popping into the office to get some work done. It helps .. the distraction's good and I'll be wide-awake. So what's the problem?"_

_"No way. It's a big problem,"_ Steve gently argued, his eyes daring Danny to argue back._ "If you can't sleep and have to get out to clear your head, then you have one and only one option. You're to drive straight here ... you come directly here to me and nowhere else, Danny. Promise me that."_

"And so here I am you great, big not-so-benevolent putz of a SEAL," Danny growled out to himself on another short inhale as he mentally went over that conversation. He was feeling better already though, something he easily attributed to having a goal ... a place to go when he was feeling so unable to make a decision and so wholly unlike his usual self.

With a casual glance towards what would be the window of the second floor master bedroom, Danny shook his head with a fond smile. "Control freak," he murmured softly.

He was indeed smiling as he quietly exited his car and carefully snicked the door shut so as not to make a single sound. Steve was right. And when it came to how Danny might best recover, he had always been right and Danny smiled even more at the thought. He felt comfortable at Steve's and instantly less stressed. What he was feeling now as he stepped foot on familiar territory was much better than an aimless drive through barely lit deserted city streets. So with a soundless step, Danny then skirted the house itself, to wind up on the lanai where he quickly decided that a walk was in order.

Kicking his shoes off, Danny strolled lazily down to the water's edge. The moon was just bright enough as he picked a direction to travel and with a check of his watch on the time, he was already making plans upon his return to the house. After his walk it would still be early, but he'd disable the security system and cook breakfast for the two of them.

Steve would wake to the smell of coffee and eggs or maybe even pancakes. He would complain and put on a show. Yet, that was part of their deal, too, because they each needed to be there for the other. And with the simple act of heeding Steve's advice, Danny knew that his arrival would ease his friend's feelings of self-blame.

_Pancakes_ only made things better and Danny almost laughed out loud at himself.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

Steve watched the Camaro pull into his driveway, the car's front headlights dimming as soon as they turned to face the front of his house out of courtesy. He took a careful step back away from his window, standing on tiptoes and bobbing his head to gain just the right angle to see Danny in the driver's seat through the partially opened blinds. He looked relatively okay, so Steve easily gathered that his friend had been unable to sleep.

"Thank you," Steve softly stated, pleased that Danny had actually done as he'd requested. But then again, why wouldn't he? Danny had been mouthy as his typical acerbic tendencies returned, but he'd still listened at the end of the day to Steve's persistent advice and demands.

He only moved when Danny vacated his car, guessing where his friend would wind up as he edged along the shrubs around the side of the long house where Steve lost sight of him. Steve crept down the staircase, poised just a few steps from the landing until he saw the dark silhouette appear on the lanai. He waited patiently to see if Danny might decide to come in or even just sit outside, yet he gave a knowing nod when the silhouette disappeared entirely.

Danny wasn't able to sleep and still wasn't feeling tired enough to try as his restlessness remained, so he'd gone for a walk down the beach.

Steve checked the early morning hour on his watch and calculated the time it might take for his partner to walk off his angst. But it didn't actually matter how long Danny might need because Steve was already making up his mind as he headed towards the kitchen. He kept the lights off on purpose, using the natural brightness which the moon offered through the kitchen window.

A few minutes later, hot coffee was perking in his favorite pot, a bottle of all natural maple syrup was sitting on the kitchen table, and he was gathering the rest of the ingredients for their breakfast.

_**~ END ~**_


End file.
